The Seventh Horcrux
by A Being Of Violet Fire
Summary: AVADA KADAVRA. One of the three notorious Unforgivable Curses. Used the stop the heart, rob breath, steal life. But, once again, Harry Potter defies the odds. For the Boy-Who-Lived, his life, this time, is just beginning... Never-Before-Seen Plot! READ!
1. Sacrifice

"_AVADA KADAVRA!"_

With those words, those two, hate-filled, life-ending, hopefully war-turning words; Harry closed his eyes, and resigned himself to his fate.

He hadn't comprehended, he realized in the split second before the green light enveloped his broken form, exactly what his sacrifice would entail.

In flashes of light and sound and screams, Harry lived everything that had led him up to this point.

_Letters… Hagrid… Fluffy… Dragons… Unicorns… Blood… __**Mars is bright tonight… **__Voldemort, Stone, resurrection, cloak of invisibility… Ron… Chess, keys, Devil's Snare… Hermione, Neville… Mirror, turban, Quirrell… burning, screaming, _**Am I Dead Yet…?**

_Dobby, Dursleys, secrets… bars, car, picking locks and freckles… Lockhart, voice in the walls, _**KILL HUNT FRESH BLOOD KILL KILL KILL!**_**... **__spiders, rejection, persecution, Parseltongue… Polyjuice, __**Heir of Slytherin…**__ Diary, Tom Riddle, Hagrid… Acromantula, Hermione, Basilisks… Myrtle, Ginny, _OBLIVIATE!..._ Diary, Voldemort… _**SMELL HIM SMELL HIM… **_Pheonix song, Gryffindor's sword, Sorting Hat… Venom, white-hot, burning, boiling…. __**Am I Finally Dying…?**_

_Marge, _**SOMETHING WRONG WITH THE BITCH THERE'S SOMETHING WRONG WITH THE PUP!**_**... **__running, Knight Bus, Neville Longbottom… Sirius Black, murderer, godfather… Dementors, screaming _**NOT HARRY NOT HARRY… **_Professor Lupin, werewolf, Patronus… Marauder's Map, Weasley Twins, Peter Pettigrew… Quidditch, Firebolt, Hermione… Scabbers, Crookshanks, Buckbeak… Timeturners, Shrieking Shack, Ron, betrayal… Grim, innocence, Snape, __**EXPELLIARMUS… **__blinding, overwhelming hope, __**Come live with me?... **__full moon, werewolf, running, screaming, Dementors, flash of light, overwhelming black, __**dad… **__Dumbledore, time, Malfoy, hippogriff… flying, laughter, rescue… watching all his hopes and dreams fly away… __**I Wish I Was Dead…**_

_Dursleys, TonTon Toffees… Quidditch World Cup, Viktor Krum, Veela… Death Eaters, _**MOSMORDRE!, **_Winky, Crouch… Triwizard Tournament, Goblet of Fire, death toll… Cedric Diggory, Viktor Krum, Fleur Delacour… __**Harry Potter…**__ridicule, torment, abandonment, Ron… fear, Dragons, Hungarian Horntail, broom… Golden Egg, __**Come seek us where our voices sound, we cannot sing above the ground…**__ Maze, Sphinx, Boggart, Acromantula, __**CRUCIO!...**__screaming, running, WATCH OUT!... __**take the cup together… Hogwarts victory… **__Portkey, spinning, __**KILL THE SPARE**__… Bone of Father, Blood of Enemy, Flesh of Servant… __**BOW TO YOUR BETTERS… CRUCIO!... Expelliarmus, AVADA KADAVRA!... **__Pheonix song, mum, dad… Harry, take my body back to my father… RUN HARRY RUN!... ACCIO! VOLDEMORT'S BACK!... Dizzy, shock, __**Come with me Potter… **__Mad-Eye Moody, Crouch, Polyjuice… Fudge, Dementors, denial… _**Why Can't I Just Fucking Die?**

_Grimmauld Place, Fidelius, Sirius… Order of the Pheonix, secrets, anger and frustration… visions, nightmares, screams… Daily Prophet, liar, attention-seeking, murderer… Umbitch, bloody quill, _**I MUST NOT TELL LIES… **_Snape, Occlumency, __**LEGILIMENS!... **__memories, flashes, nonono can't see not allowed to see hide, hide all Dursleys… secrets, Dumbledore, corridors and balls of light, slithering, giant snake… Mr. Weasley… pensieve, Sirius, dad, Remus bullies, furious Snape, glass jars, _**DON'T COME BACK!... **_Sirius, screaming, torture, Department of Mysteries… Inquisitorial Squad, DA, Veritaserum, CRUCIO, secret weapon… Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Neville, Luna, rescue… Thestrals, flying, running… Prophesy, Voldemort and Harry Potter?... Death Eaters, running, fighting, falling, screaming… rescue, terrified, it was a trap… Bellatrix, Sirius, _**STUPIFY,**_The Veil, __**NOOOOOOO!... **__breaking, shattering, sobbing, alone, abandoned… Voldemort escapes, Fudge sees, all is known… __**I Don't Want to Live Anymore…**_

_Dumbledore… Slughorn, Dragons Blood, Slug Club… _**stay there for your own safety, my boy… **_Potions, Half-Blood Prince, Liquid Luck… Memories, Tom Riddle, goldfish bowl… Poisoned chocolate, cursed necklace, bezoar… __**HORCRUXES… **__cave, Slytherin's locket, inferi… _**RAB**_… Draco Malfoy… bathroom, __**SECTUMSEMPRA… **__blood, tears, panic, oh thank Merlin it's Snape… run run run get away… ring, shriveled hand, Death Eaters… Malfoy, invisibility cloak, _**Please Severus… **_**AVADA KADAVRA!... **__Dumbledore dead, falling, Death Eaters escape… Couldn't do anything, weak, defenseless, helpless, pathetic, __**FREAK… **_**The War Has Begun… And I Don't Think I'll Live to See the End…**

_Wedding… running, HORCRUXES… Apparation, Death Eaters, torture… _**MUDBLOOD…**_Malfoy Manor… Bellatrix, Draco, Narcissa, Lucius… __**Don't say the name…**__ Gryffindor's Sword, Doe Patronus… Kreature, Slytherin's Locket, RAB is Regulus Arcturus Black… negative emotions, anger, hatred, jealousy… Ron… Polyjuice, Umbridge, Dementors… Hufflepuff's Cup… Gringotts, Goblins, Dragons… Nagini, Snape, Neville… _**LOOK AT ME!... **_Tom Riddle's Diary… Ravenclaw's Diadem… Hogwarts, Grey Lady, Bloody Baron… Gaunt's Ring… Deathly Hallows… Invisibility Cloak, Resurrection Stone, Elder Wand… __**Master of Death… **__final showdown, ultimate sacrifice… _**Me, Harry Potter, the Final Horcrux…**

Briefly, Harry wondered why he was only remembering these. Where was the rest of his life? Wasn't _all _of it supposed to flash before his eyes? Suddenly, Harry came to a horrible realization. This _was _his life.

His entire existence was nothing more that to be trained and tested for this final moment. All his life, from the time he was put on the Dursleys doorstep until now, was all to prepare him to go to his death. What normal seventeen year old would willingly do this? Hell, Harry'd been willing to do it since he was _eleven_!

And Dumbledore… Dumbledore knew all along. How could he have watched the small eleven-year-old first year walk in that door; and with a clear conscious already be planning his inevitable sacrifice?

And suddenly, as the bright flash of green light burned bright into his eyelids and encompassed his body, Harry realized that he didn't want to be the wizarding world's scapegoat any longer; their sacrificial lamb. He didn't want his last memories of life to be this unfulfilling, pain-filled existence.

For the first time that he could remember, Harry Potter didn't want to die.

And Voldemort's high, cold, cruel laughter echoed as the small, emaciated, blood- and dirt-crusted body hit the floor with a dull thud; holly and phoenix-feather wand clattering from his already-cooling fingers.

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><p><em><strong>AN: This is a Challenge issued to me by my faithful reader and reviewer: **__**Anniriel. She posed a fairly overdone plot, but then some EXCELLENT plot twists hit me like a triple-decker bus (I've **_**still **_**got the bruises…) that have never been done before and as such, will make for an intriguing and fascinating read (I hope…). I'm not even 100 percent sure how it'll turn out; so it's almost like I'm discovering and reading it at the same time as you guys!**_

_**But, before you all decide to lynch me, YES I'm working on my other stories. I just needed a little break. But, now that I have the creative juices flowing, I'll be having new chapters out in now time. Thank you all, my faithful readers, for your patience… it shall not go unrewarded. xD**_

_**((PS: If you want an idea of how brilliant I think this plot is… it only took me an hour to read the challenge, come up with ideas and plots, accept the challenge, and type up this chapter. xD xD))**_

… _**I Solemnly Swear I Am Up To No Good … **_


	2. King's Cross

Harry jerked awake with a gasp, clutching his furiously pounding heart. He was dead… but he wasn't, he was breathing, but then why…? What happened…?

_He was facing Voldemort… he was a horcrux, the final sacrifice… and then… then…_

Suddenly, it all came back in a flash of green light…

_The Boy-Who-Lived… come to die…_

_AVADA KADAVRA!_

_I DON'T WANT TO DIE!_

Harry's breath stuttered as he curled into a ball; tears rolling down his face as he gave great gasping sobs.

He cried for everything he'd left behind.

He sobbed for the choice he had to make.

But, most of all, he mourned the loss of a life he never truly got to live… and the betrayal of a mentor who bred him for the task.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity (and might very well have been, for all he knew), the cried tapered off. As Harry remained curled up, sniffling occasionally, he came to a realization he should have from the beginning.

He was breathing. He was crying. He was _there_.

How could that be?

Blushing lightly in mortification – _because, really, he should have done this in the first place – _Harry looked up and took stock of his surroundings. What he saw did nothing to dispel his confusion.

He was at King's Cross. On Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, to be exact. He was lying right next to the Hogwarts Express.

And he was naked.

Harry jumped up and immediately made sure that there was no one else around, no one else to see his scars. Sighing in relief when he saw that he was alone, Harry waved his hand and concentrated on erecting a wordless, wandless glamour to hide his shame.

But nothing happened.

Harry started panicking. Wherever he was, magic didn't work, he was mysteriously alive, and stark naked with the proof of his weakness for all and sundry to see.

It was only the fact that 'all and sundry' were noticeably absent that kept Harry from going into a full blown panic attack.

Until…

"_Oh no you don't, you fucking goat! You've done enough to my Prongslet with your lies and manipulations… Your time is done! And… why are you going out there naked? That's disgusting!"_

"_Close your eyes, Flower, lest you be scarred irreparably for life! Er… death…"_

"_Forget that, I want some explanations, NOW!"_

"_Now, now my children; certainly you can understand my concerns. He had all the makings of a Dark Lord, he simply had to be taken care of… after he'd done his prophesied duty of course."_

"_BASTARD!"_

"_HOW DARE-"_

"_INCARCEROUS!"_

There was a muffled thump followed by a grunt of pain, and a, _"Ha, take THAT!" _before silence once again descended.

Harry hardly dared to breathe. Three of the mysterious voices sounded vaguely familiar; but he didn't know whom they belonged to, or what exactly they were talking about.

He recognized Dumbledore's voice, of course, and the implications that, if it was Dumbledore, than Harry really _was _dead; was vastly overshadowed by the confirmation of Dumbledore's purpose for his life… or rather, lack of it.

But, before Harry could gain his wits and attempt to hide, three figures stepped around the corner; and Harry's heart completely stopped (again).

"_Hey, baby…" _Lily Potter's green eyes were loving as she gave her only son a soft smile. James adopted a lopsided grin, mischievousness in his hazel eyes only marginally dimmed by the gravity and seriousness of the situation.

And the third and final visitor was… "_Sirius…" _Harry choked out, tears falling afresh from his broken emerald eyes.

"_Heya kiddo…_" Sirius smiled, eyes sad, and held out his arms. That was the only invitation Harry needed before he flung himself into his lost godfather's chest; sobbing brokenheartedly as he gasped out apologies and pleas for forgiveness.

Suddenly, Harry didn't care that he was dead, or that the Headmaster had betrayed him, or that he was naked and couldn't use his magic. Sirius was _here_, and he could apologize for killing him, for sending him through the Veil, for making him have to come and save his own worthless skin.

"_Shhh… Harry, it's alright, it's not your fault…" _If anything, this only made Harry sob harder, shaking his head in denial.

"_I'm so sorry… I should've known, should've studied harder, should've run faster, fought better, gotten in the way…" _Harry blubbered, hardly knowing what he was saying, admitting.

"_Harry James Potter!" _Suddenly, there were two sets of hands – one hard and the other soft – that were pulling him away from Sirius. Before he could make sense of what was happening, he was turned around to face the resolute and tragically furious faces of his long-dead parents.

Lily started ranting, fire-red hair seeming to gain a life of it's own as it visibly reacted to her anger and magic. "_It is NOT. YOUR. FAULT. It was Dumbledore's, for training you too hard and refusing to offer you help or relief; for molding you to be a sacrificial lamb. It was Voldemort's, for luring you there in the first place and breaking down your defenses. And it was even a little bit Sirius' fault-" _Sirius nodded his head sheepishly at this point. _"- for knowing the danger and running in like a blundering idiot and treating it like a bloody joke. But it was most certain NOT _your _fault. Do you understand?"_

Harry nodded and shrunk under her sparking viridian eyes; not daring to disagree. Although, deep inside himself, one of his many, many internal scars healed.

James leaned forward and placed his hands on Harry's shoulders, leaning down to gaze directly into his son's eyes. Inwardly, his heart ached that his seventeen year old son was no larger than a fourth year._"Listen Prongslet, more wiser and stronger men have been fooled by Dumbledore's grandfatherly act; and have fallen under Voldemort's power and traps. You are not perfect, nor infallible, and you cannot be blamed for the casualties of this war. Not even ours."_

"_B-but," _Harry protested, tears welling up anew. "_If he hadn't been coming after me, you would have lived! If it weren't for me, you wouldn't have died!"_

"_Pup, you were fifteen months old. What happened was a series of events that no one could have predicted or averted. It was my fault for suggesting Wormtail for the secret keeper, it was Dumbledore's fault for convincing us to stay in a less-than-adequate property for protection, when Potter Manor would have been a thousand times safer, it was Voldemort's fault to falling prey to superstition and madness, and it was Fate or Destiny or whatever's fault for putting the fate of the wizarding world on a thrice-damned prophesy. The only person in the equation who's _NOT _at fault is you, Bambi."_

Harry gave a small glare at Sirius for the ridiculous nickname; but couldn't stop the small smile from forming at the affirmation and forgiveness.

Harry looked bashfully and timidly up through his eyelashes. "_Thank you mum… da."_

The smiles the three adults gave off were blinding, and they all hugged the raven-haired boy, giving him the love and healing he'd been oh-so-desperate for his entire life.

Suddenly, though, Harry realized that, while his mum, da, and Sirius were all clothed, Harry was still naked. He stiffened and froze in horror and mortification.

Instinctually knowing what Harry was thinking, all three pulled away and gave small, sad smiles.

"_It's alright, we still love you. We won't berate you for not telling anyone, either, since we understand."_

"_H-how…?" _Harry took a deep breathe, glad that he wouldn't have to face an inquiry, but still doubtful that they could _truly _understand.

But such doubts were shattered upon his mother's next words. _"We saw…"_

Harry's jaw dropped and his heart stuttered as he stared at them in horror and shame. Lily smiled sadly through her tears as she explained. _"Blood wards are a very powerful, precise brand of magic. If all had gone well, they would have been tied to Tuney and Dudley, and would have kept you safe from anything that meant you harm. But, like all magic, ninety-five percent of it is __**intent**_**.**_ The second that Tuney decided to hate your very existence – which was before you were even born – and raised her son with the same ingrained hate; the Blood Wards no longer existed._

"_So, instead of me being able to pass on to Avalon, mine and James' essence was tied to you and the wards. Too weak from the killing curse to manifest ourselves or help, but present enough to helplessly witness your torture at the hands of my despicable sister, her monstrous husband, and their cruel, piggy son. So yes, we saw everything, knew everything, and so knew, before you even received your first letter, that you would never tell or reveal what happened at the Dursleys."_

Harry nodded, relieved and blessed to have such understanding parents, and that he wouldn't have to explain nor justify himself. But, one thing that his mum said didn't quite make sense. _"What do you mean, yours and da's essence was tied to the Wards? Dumbledore said that it was built upon _your _sacrifice."_

James snorted, rolling his eyes. _"Prongslet, I'm only going to say this once, everything that Dumbledore ever told you, just throw it out of your mind right now. About 99.999% of everything that came out of his mouth was pure and utter rubbish. As for the rest, well, you'll have a chance to relearn all of that yourself." _Harry opened his mouth to question what he meant, but James just shook his head and plowed on. _"As for your question, a Father's love for their son is just as, if not more powerful, than a mother's. Blood traits, inheritances, and magic are passed through the Father's Line. The second you were conceived, as my son, you and I formed a life-long bond. You became a part of me just as I became a part of you. That's why heirs are so important, so precious._

"_That's why you look just like me, and why Bill looks a lot like Arthur, just as Malfoy is nearly identical to Lucy. As soon as it was formed, I could sense your heartbeat, just as you could mine. When you fussed, all I had to do was hold you, and the sound of my heartbeat would immediately soothe you._

"_When I died for you, my magic automatically became tied to you. Whomever killed me would be unable to do the same to my heir. It is an Ancient Magic that is only known the Pureblood Elite; to ensure that a Family Line could not be wiped out in one fell blow. If he'd not killed me, you would have died, since I, as head of the Potter Line, could produce a new heir. But it only works with Purebloods, which means that, yes, your mother was a Pureblood witch, born of two dormant Squib lines._

"_As for all that that entails… well… you'll discover that in time. But I'd suggest that, as soon as you get a chance, you do an Inheritance Test at Gringotts. You might be surprised."_

"_What Prongs is trying to say, cub, is that, if anything, is was your father's sacrifice that saved you. But Dumbledore only emphasized you mother's because he wanted you to be like her. Muggle-raised, naïve, impressionable, unknowledgeable. He wanted you to have no clue of your Heritage, your Inheritance, your estates, money, or Wizengamot Seat. You would have no knowledge of Pureblood laws or social faux pas, firmly under his thumb and 'guidance'." _Sirius continued, seeing that Harry wasn't going to interrupt; too shocked with what he was learning.

"_He wanted you to believe that your greatest power was 'Love'. So you wouldn't need any intensive training, because you were imbued with your mother's love." _Sirius scoffed and sneered with outrage. "_He believed you to be the next Dark Lord. He partially suppressed your magic, refused to give you adequate training, then manipulated and formed you into the Light Side's sacrifice. You were never meant to survive."_

Harry shook his head. _"You're forgetting something. I was Voldemort's Seventh Horcrux… I needed to die anyway." _He looked down dejectedly, not seeing his family's furious and apprehensive looks.

"_Harry…"_ Hazel eyes met confused emerald as James tentatively explained; revealing a secret, a bombshell, that would complete disintegrate any and all lingering affection and trust that Harry held for the grandfatherly Headmaster.

"… _you're not a Horcrux…"_

_**A/N: Dun dun dun duuuuun! Good? Bad? Love it? Hate it? Owl me to let me know! (Any and all Howlers will be Confringo-ed)**_


	3. Reset

_**A/N: Beware, here there be… deep shit. This is where things get wonky.**_

* * *

><p>"… <em>You're not a horcrux… you're not a horcrux… you're not a horcrux…"<em>

These words echoed in Harry's shocked and horrified mind. It just couldn't… he couldn't make sense of it…

"_B-but… what about the link? The torture and visions and… my mood swings! Hating and being furious and… I just, I __**have **__to be! It's the only thing that makes sense!"_

Harry knew that he was on the verge of a panic attack, but he just couldn't help it. This was just too much, on top of everything, and he just couldn't fucking take it.

Suddenly, before Harry could make sense of it, he was held tightly against a warm, strong chest; his ear resting over a comforting heartbeat. Something instinctual in Harry, something he was sure was forever forgotten, listened and was soothed by the familiar rhythm.

It took him a minute before he was fully calm. When he was, he pulled away slightly to look up into warm hazel eyes. Harry gave a soft, bashful smile of gratitude; but was reluctant to relinquish the embrace that he'd been deprived of for so very long. Thankfully, James didn't seem to be all too keen on letting go anytime soon, either.

Harry allowed the comforting presence and heartbeat to continue soothing him even as his mum began to explain.

"_The link was another side effect of the Ancient Familial Magic. As you were the last Potter, the last male heir, when Voldemort tried to kill you he failed – massively. But, what very few people know, eve Purebloods, is that the Ancient Magic has a motto of sorts:_ **Whatever doesn't kill you will try again; **and so it takes the necessary precautions.

"_So, by using magic to try and kill you, he __**linked **__you to his magic instead. It's used to give you an advantage in avoiding your opponent. So that, if he tried to kill you again, you'd be prepared and warned. Normally, the link would be small, only allowing the victim to have a sort of mild 'sixth sense'. But, because of the nature and power of the Killing Curse, the link was that much stronger; and you suffered for it. It had __**nothing **__to do with him implanting a piece of his soul into you._

"_As a matter of fact, Salazar Slytherin, who was the one who researched Horcrux magic, discovered that using a human being as a horcrux was impossible. Inanimate objects and animals are fine, as they possess no soul of their own. But in using a human being, the host's soul will fight – and win – against the foreign shard. Every. Single. Time."_

Harry took a deep breath, hardly daring to believe. But somehow, deep within himself, he knew this to be true. But he still needed further convincing. "_But… what about my mood swings? For no reason at all, I would be overcome by the most _**potent **_rage…"_

This time, it was Sirius who answered, shaking his head sadly. _"That had nothing to do with a horcrux, and everything to do with the trauma of the Third Task."_

"_What…?" _Harry frowned, confused. He wasn't understanding…

"_Harry, have you ever heard of PTSD?" _At Harry's headshake, Sirius nodded; as though only confirming previously known knowledge. _"It's also known as Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. It's common in people who've survived a terrible trauma. Their emotions can't handle it, and so are erratic and all over the place. It was most concentrated on the Headmaster, however, because somehow, subconsciously, you knew that he had all the answers, all the power; and yet told you nothing, did nothing to help you. Only left you to suffer, and all but ignored you upon your return to Hogwarts._

"_It was __**completely normal.**__ I suffered from it for a while too, during that first summer after my escape. Remus had joined me while I was hiding in the tropics, and __**Merlin, **__you should have seen the things I did when the mood overtook me. I threw things, yelled things I didn't mean, even punched him once. But Remus knew, he understood, and stood by me to help me heal._"

_It was normal… he wasn't a freak… _Once again, an internal scar in Harry, perhaps one of the largest, began to slowly heal in the wake of what his _true _family was telling him.

"_So… you're saying that Dumbledore knew that I wasn't a Horcrux?" _They nodded their heads, not saying anything, somehow knowing that Harry needed to talk it out. "_And he thought I was the Dark Lord… from when I was eleven? Or just a baby? And… how, why…?"_

James took a deep breath and squared his shoulders, taking upon himself the arduous task of explaining where it all went wrong… when his life and death were decided for him. _"Do you remember Dudley's eleventh birthday? When Arabella broke her leg and you got to go to the zoo?" _Harry nodded in confirmation, confused about where this was going.

"_Well… she didn't really injure herself. It was a set-up. Dumbledore convinced her to do it, because he wanted to see how you would react in public, surrounded by Muggles. Because, even before Tom Riddle knew he was a wizard, he thought himself above 'normal' people. So, Dumbledore tested you._

"_It was all going well. You were quiet, unassuming, timid… everything he could have ever hoped for and more. But then… the Reptile House. You spoke to the snake, Harry. You were quiet, and you thought you were just speaking English, but Dumbledore was close enough to hear you hissing. Immediately, he determined that you were dark, evil… and set in motion the events that would lead you… here. He put curses and charms on Riddle's twin wand so that it would forcefully bind itself to your magic and partially suppress it. That way, if you managed to survive the war, he could claim that you were the next Dark Lord merely by association with his wand; and have you thrown in Azkaban."_

Harry gaped in horror as he trembled with emotional agony. _"You mean… not only was Riddle's twin wand _**not **_my wand, but all of the trials and tribulations that I endured all through Hogwarts might not have happened? He might have loved me, guided me, protected me… if only I hadn't gone to the zoo?"_

They all three nodded again, and Harry took a deep breath. Forcefully, he shoved all that he had learned into the back corner of his mind; until such a time as when he could bury his face in a silenced-pillow and _scream_. Hiding his emotions and feelings, Harry's face smoothed over and his mind cleared. Harry then asked something that had been niggling at him for a while; but he hadn't heard over the rushing in his ears.

"_So… if I wasn't a horcrux… then how on earth did I get the gift of Parseltongue?"_

Lily grinned. _"Oh no, I'm leaving that as a surprise. If you want to know so bad, go to Gringotts first chance you get; and do that Inheritance Test."_

Harry frowned and gave his mum a worried look, wondering for her sanity. _"Um… mum, you __**do **__know that we're dead… right? I can't go to Gringotts… Dumbledore won."_

To say he was shocked with all three adults broke out into wide grins would be an understatement.

"_Oh no Harry… this is where we get to the __**fun **__part…"_

"_Voldemort, by using your blood to come back to life, only to kill you – the last Potter, the host – later; he found a loophole in the Ancient Magic. And, well… let's just say that Magic isn't too pleased…"_

"_What your bumbling godfather and da are trying to say, baby, is that a Reset has been initiated."_

Harry stared blankly at the three expectant-looking adults. "_I'm sorry… but that doesn't explain anything…"_

Sirius, hardly able to contain his glee, started bouncing up and down as he elaborated. "_A Reset is where someone abuses Magic's gift and causes irreparable damage to the Flow of all Things. It's only happened twice in the past (once during Merlin's era, hence the Dark Ages; and the other on the Magical Capital of the World: Atlantis) and it's where Magic chooses one individual and __**Resets**__ their life back a single decade. That's usually more than enough to fix the wrongs against Magic. However, Magic can only do this once an Age… and this time, Magic's chosen __**you, **__Harry."_

Harry merely stared in shock, body and mind completely frozen; although a small tendril of hope began blossoming in his heart. Unable to contain himself either, James fell to his knee and clasped his son's shoulders; looking earnestly into his dazed emerald eyes.

"_Do you understand Harry? You can go back, retain every memory of you past life, and __**re-do it.**__ You can fix everything… in ways that you couldn't have before. Now, you have Magic on your side, and a lifetime's worth of experience and knowledge that you can use to tear that manipulative old goat apart at the seams."_

Harry's soul leapt for joy, at the same time his heart sunk with grief. _"Only… only ten years?"_

Lily joined her husband on the ground, face reflecting the sadness echoed in her son's. "_Yes. You cannot save us, Harry. Even if you went back to that night, there is nothing that an eighteen month old could have done to stop Voldemort or save us. You have to accept that, Harry. Besides, you'll need the protection that James and I gave you… it's more powerful than even you know…"_

"_But… I don't want to leave you! Can't I stay here with you guys? I just… it's too much… I can't do it again!" _Harry choked out, trembling and sobbing; wanting to stay here, where he was happy and loved – for the first time that he could remember.

Lily smiled sadly, leaning forward to embrace her child. _"No, you do not have to go. As it's __**Magic, **__it's all about intent. If you truly don't want to, no matter what, Magic can't force you to. You have a choice._

"_But, as much as I'd love for you to stay here with me, safe and sound; I also desperately want you to actually __**live **__first, before you die for good. I want you to take on the world, learn everything that you want to, be anything you want to be. I want you to fall in love with a beautiful girl-" – _**"Or boy!" **Sirius interjected._ – "-and give me lots of grandchildren. Then, when you've lived your life to the fullest; we'll be waiting here for you still."_

When his mum said those words, Harry was forcefully reminded of his desperate realization and plea, right before the green light of the forbidden curse overwhelmed him. He _fervently, _with all his heart, wanted to live. And just like that, Harry knew his choice.

He looked up, into the three understanding pairs hazel, grey, and emerald-so-like-his-own eyes, and swallowed forcefully. _"__**I'll do it…" **_He affirmed, his heart warming at the proud gazes from his family. _"I'll go back… and I'll fix everything…"_

* * *

><p>"<em>Now, remember Harry," <em>James reminded his son for what was probably the eighth time. _"First thing you do is to go __**directly **__to Gringotts. You get control of your finances before Dumbledore can do anymore damage, you get that Inheritance Test done, then you get the hell out of dodge."_

"_But can I do that?" _Harry asked, looking askance at the steadily glowing rune circle around him. _"I mean, I'm going to be seven years old for Merlin's sake; will the goblins even give me that level of control?"_

"_Harry, goblins are much more wise and powerful than they would have wizards believe. I suspect that they'll know the truth within seconds of looking at you. Besides, there's nothing they hate more than thievery, and when they discover what Dumbledore's been doing under their very noses; they'll move heaven and earth to please one of their oldest Pureblood Lines." _Lily assured, even as she finished drawing up the final runes of the outer circle.

"_Besides, kiddo, I'll be helping you out along the way!" _Sirius grinned, bouncing, practically _dancing_, along the outside of the Ritual Circle.

Harry frowned. _"What do you mean? You don't escape until I'm thirteen…"_

"_Oh, right!" _James slapped his forehead before grinning sheepishly at Harry's confused face. _"Forgot to mention. All those here, who didn't pass on right away, will be allowed to retain their memories of this place if they return to their bodies in the past. So Sirius will be escaping earlier to help you out."_

"_But what about…" _Harry sent a frantic look towards the bound and silenced ex-Headmaster in the corner; who was even now staring at him with maniacal, furious blue eyes.

"_Don't worry, Prongslet." _James shared a downright evil grin with his fellow Marauder; all the while twirling his wand between his fingers. _"I assure you, Dumbledore will remember absolutely __**nothing.**__"_

Harry grinned, understanding the implications, just as Lily finished the final rune circle; letting out a triumphant, _"Ah ha!"_

She whirled to James, eyes bright with victory and joy. "_Alright James, do your part."_

James nodded before turning towards his only son; whom he hopefully wouldn't see for a very, _very _long time. _"I love you Prongslet… always remember that. I'm proud of you son… Now go give them hell."_

Then, James sat cross-legged at the True North of the Rune Circle, and began chanting in an Ancient and Forgotten language. Harry could _feel _his father's magic fill the room, giving power and light to the Circle. A wind picked up and began spinning around the room; creating a roaring pressure in his ears.

"_Harry, keep in mind that this is only a one-time thing!" _Lily yelled over the noise, barely making himself heard. _"You don't get a second second chance. The person sent back to fix Atlantis failed, and the result was a Lost City and the Knowledge of the Millennia. This is it!"_

"_No pressure kiddo!"_

And then there was an explosion of light and wind, and Harry felt like he was simultaneously being blasted into billions of atoms, while being picked up, whole and sound, and swept across a great distance.

Only three things echoed in the sudden deafening silence as he was blasted away:

_His godfather's bark-like laugh of joy and glee._

_His mum's heartfelt cry of, "I LOVE YOU, BABY!"_

_And his da, his guardian, growling, "You've royally fucked up this time, old man… OBLIVIATE!"_

But none of that mattered. Because right now, Harry was alive, and this time, he was bloody well going to stay that way.

* * *

><p><strong><em>AN: Would you look at that: three chapters in less than two days... my my, well aren't you guys special. xD xD Owl me, let me know what you think!_**


	4. Beginnings

Harry jerked upwards with a gasp, only to come into painful re-acquaintance with the underside of the stairs above his head.

As Harry laid there and groaned quietly, nursing what was promising to be a sizable bruise on his forehead, all of his memories and experiences rushed into him; assimilating themselves with his seven year old mind.

Harry almost fancied he could _feel _his brain stretch and grow as it made room for the ten other years of memories that hadn't truly happened yet. His _magic _even seemed to age, becoming heavier, somewhat darker; tainted with his experiences and magical knowledge and maturity. Still, even though he was in a seven year old body, Harry was still shocked and pained to realize that there was more magic at his disposal _now, _at this age, then he'd ever had or used at Hogwarts. Well, if Harry had something to say about it, Dumblefuck would never get a chance to block his magic again.

Feeling the acute pain settled into a dull, throbbing ache, Harry sat up and surveyed his all-too-familiar surroundings. His cupboard was just as dusty and dark as he remembered it. The three broken green toy soldiers were still there, although the headless dinosaur he's filched from the bin when he was nine was noticeably absent. Although Harry was pleased, no, _ecstatic, _to discover that his blue, ratted baby blanket that his mother had embroidered for him was still there (the Dursleys had burned it when he was eight after they'd discovered it. Harry could still feel the lingering ache from the loss). He knew that all these things would be coming with him when he left, a reminder of what he had already survived.

Because, yes, Harry was leaving. The only question was… _when_.

He knew that he needed to give his godfather a few days to get out of Azkaban before going to Gringotts; and he'd risk his chances on the streets until then if not for his need to be near the telly when they announced his escape on the news like last time.

So Harry merely sat back and waiting for his relatives to rise, preparing to play the part more familiar and ingrained to him than the 'Boy-Who-Lived' persona.

Not too much later Harry heard the tell-tale sound of his relative's alarm clock. Mentally, Harry mapped out the morning. First, if Harry remembered correctly, Uncle Vernon would get into the shower while Petunia came down to get him up and observe him while he made breakfast, to minimize the risk of the _freak _ruining her darling family's breakfast (and to make sure he didn't steal any food). After Vernon finished his shower, he would get Dudley up and both would come down for breakfast. A few insults and a bruise or two later, and Harry would be free to eat his slice of bread in his cupboard before getting started on his chores.

True to form, that's exactly what happened. Well, mostly. To his shock, Harry wasn't beaten or insulted _once _that morning. He pondered this while he was cleaning the dishes, so deep into his thoughts that he completely missed the disturbing glances his uncle kept sending his way.

Harry might have been subjected to horrible and terrible suffering, if not for Aunt Petunia. Yes, as strange as that sounds; Petunia was responsible for averting a horrendous crime from happening again; however indirectly.

You see, Petunia was one of those types who marked off each day as it passed on the calendar. And so, as little Harry reached up to put a now-dried plate away, his gaze caught the calendar hanging on the side of the cabinet. The sight of the red X's leading up to today's date caused Harry's blood to freeze and nearly drop the plate.

It was July 31st. Harry's birthday. Harry's _seventh _birthday.

The first time Harry's uncle did… _that _to him.

Immediately, Harry knew that his decision was made for him. He wasn't hanging around until tonight; for his uncle to unleash his sadistic and twisted pleasures upon his body.

Harry was leaving. Today. Hopefully Padfoot, after discovering him gone, would immediately go to Gringotts. Because Harry wasn't sticking around; not for one more second.

* * *

><p>Harry, now wise to the significance of the date, recognized the frequent glances that, in his past life, had made him feel scared and uneasy. Now, they just made him sick with revulsion.<p>

Finally, his uncle had left for work, after sending one last look at the small boy that caused Harry to shudder with disgust.

It was summer, so Petunia, after giving Harry an impossible list of chores, left to take Dudley to a play date with Piers and Malcolm. Watching and waiting for five minutes after the car had left the driveway, Harry sneered and crushed the list.

It was now or never.

Going as fast as he was able, Harry quickly gathered his blanket, broken toy soldiers, and all the loose change from the tin on the fireplace that the Dursleys thought he didn't know about. He snuck in to Dudley's room and stole his smallest jacket, then into the Master bedroom to get all of Petunia's gold jewelry. After all, it didn't hurt to have a little extra gold to bribe the goblins with, did it?

Harry, as he was leaving, had a sudden epiphany and cut his finger, before writing a message on the while hallway:

_Won't Dumbledore be ever so DISpleased to find out you've lost his Savior? Pity pity…_

Harry grinned. With any luck, the Dursleys wouldn't say a word about it to anyone, meanwhile quietly gathering up their things and skipping the country. When Dumbledore found out, he would hopefully be too late.

Feeling pleased with a job well done, Harry shouldered Dudley's favorite backpack (Harry'd dumped out and burned all the summer homework that the Dursleys had forced him to do for his cousin), now packed with all that he currently owned in the world, and walked out the front door.

He would never return.

* * *

><p>Harry stepped off the Knight Bus, giving Mortimer Merryweather (the current conductor, presumably before Stan Shunpike) a jaunty goodbye wave. He'd just had a <em>fascinating <em>conversation with the old wizard.

Apparently, Padfoot had arrived in time a day or so earlier than Harry; and as such had just escaped this morning. Harry knew that it would take at until tomorrow morning at the latest for him to get to Privet Drive (probably just in time for the news announcement). After trailing Harry's scent to the road, he should be able to deduce that Harry'd already jumped the gun; and head straight to Gringotts.

Harry grinned. It wouldn't be long now. A day or two at the most, and him and Sirius would be off to make a better future (Harry snorted at himself for his ridiculously cliché thoughts).

"An' ah gud ev'nin' ta ya laddy buck. R'member, y' bes' beh careful 'round these parts… y' never know what mi' beh lurkin' 'round tha cornah." And with those final parting words, Morty gave a short nod and shut the door. And, before Harry would so much as think up a response, there was an echoing _BANG!_, an explosion of displaced air, and the purple death-trap was gone.

Shaking his head, Harry walked into the Leaky Cauldron. Hitching up his backpack and making sure that his hair and hoodie covered his scar, Harry schooled his features into a deceptively innocent expression before walking up to Tom, the old barkeeper.

"S'cuse me mister?" It was almost comical to see Tom jump, whirl around and look for someone clearly taller than three and a half feet, before glancing down and blinking stupidly. Harry, pretending to be oblivious and scared, willed false tears to fill his big green eyes. "M' brother lef' me behind an' I can't get through the big wall 'cause I don' have a wand an' am too s-small…" Here, Harry made his voice hitch and warble pathetically; meanwhile inwardly cackling at his mad acting skills as he could practically _see _Tom melt.

"Of course lad… I'll help you get through. Though be sure to tell your mum what happened, she'll be sure to give your brat brother quite the tongue-lashing." Harry nodded, practically _radiating _innocence and sincerity; as Tom ambled around the bar while wiping his grubby hands and taking out his wand.

Harry followed dutifully, gazing at Tom in abject hero-worship. To his credit, Tom merely smiled fondly as the barrier opened; reaching down to ruffle his hair before going back into the bar.

"Thank you!" Harry called, but Tom was already gone; the door closed behind him.

Harry turned around and took a good, hard look at the bustling Alley. This was it. As soon as he stepped through this barrier, there was no going back. From here on out, Harry would be changing history; altering the present; recreating the future.

He was going to make his mother and father proud.

Time to make the shit hit the fan.

Harry took a deep breath, clenched his fists in sudden nervousness, before lifting his foot and taking a step forwards. He continued, until he got five steps away and the archway closed behind him.

Harry took one last look back, before turning and making his way determinedly to Gringotts.

It had begun.


	5. Gringotts

_**A/N: This is the chapter where the major plot twist that I'm adding will come into play. It is this twist that will make this story completely different from other "Reset" stories; and I hope that you will enjoy it. ::happy sigh:: … sometimes, I really just love it when a story comes together. xD**_

* * *

><p>Harry, earlier nervousness gone in the face of his overwhelming anticipation and excitement, strolled up to one of the tellers. However, as he looked up, he froze in fury and remembered terror.<p>

It was none other than Griphook. That blood-thirsty goblin traitor.

Before the goblin could register or memorize his face, Harry quickly about-turned and approached a teller on the other side of the building; lest he do something that he wouldn't necessarily _regret_, but would expose him before he was ready – like tearing off his ugly little head and shoving it up where the sun don't shine.

"Excuse me, sir." Harry spoke up, flushing lightly as the goblin was forced out of his seat to look down at him over the edge of the podium. "I need to speak with my account manager. I expect complete discretion. Please." He quickly tacked that on the end, thinking that it couldn't hurt to be polite.

Unfortunately, goblins didn't care much about _polite._

"Hmph. Surname?" The goblin growled, abrupt and rude. Harry scowled.

"Perhaps, goblin, you do not understand the meaning of the word _discretion_. I will not impart my surname nor title until I have my private meeting chamber."

But the goblin merely scowled, before _turning up his nose_, and settling back in his seat; now ignoring the fuming not-child.

However, it was a rather nasty shock when an ornate pair of gold earrings landed on his ledger book, smudging his still-wet ink. The goblin leaned over his desk again to be met with the coldly-furious expression of the too-small, upstart of a boy. However, the goblin was _much _more interested in the matching gold necklace dangling from the boy's outstretched fingertip.

The goblin gazed at it in contemplation for a moment, before turning and examining the boy properly for the first time since he'd disturbed his day.

The face, half-hidden in shadow from the brat's hair and disgustingly Muggle jumper. Mouth settled into a cold, hard scowl that was scarily potent and effective for a child of that age. And his eyes – those _eyes – _that were the eeriest shade of Avada Kadavra-green, almost glowing, yet darkened with a humbling and slightly frightening level of knowledge and experience that the goblin knew was just not _possible._

And then his _scent…_

There was more to this not-child than met the eye.

Suddenly, the goblin gave the boy a shark-like smile; all teeth and no mercy.

This promised to be _fun_.

* * *

><p>Harry sat patiently in the ornate waiting chamber, his backpack now five pieces of gold lighter. To Harry, it was a small price for the Oath of silence and secrecy. Finally, after ten minutes of what would be unnatural stillness from any <em>other <em>seven year old; the rude goblin – that Harry now knew was named Ironclaw – entered, followed by an older, more wrinkled goblin; as well as a female goblin (Harry simply had a _feeling _that she was female, as she looked just the same as all the other goblins Harry had met).

Harry, having heard them entering from the doorway behind him, stood from the too-large high-backed velvet chair and walked around it until he was visible. He quickly gave a small bow and smiled slightly.

"So glad you could make it. My name is Harry James Potter, and I'm here to talk about my inheritance."

Of the many reactions that he was expecting, what he had _not _anticipated was the female gasping in shocked awe before dropping to her knees and pressing her nose to the floor in a position of abject servitude and worship.

"W-what? No, stop it, get up! What're you doing?" However, Harry, and the two equally shocked goblins, received no answer; for as soon as he 'gave her permission to rise', she bolted from the room, mumbling something about '_The One'_ and '_having to tell the Elders_'.

The three were left staring uncomprehendingly at the still-swinging door.

"Well…" The older goblin drawled as he moved to sit behind his Blackwood desk. "It seemed Irisheart has had another one of her fits. I'm sure all will be explained in time."

"_Or she'll finally be committed permanently to the Wonky Ward…_" Ironclaw snarked under his breath as he went to stand in the corner. Whether the elder goblin heard or not was uncertain, as he made no reaction either way.

Shaking himself from his shock and mirth, Harry struggled back into the too-large chair; unknowingly causing the two goblins hidden amusement.

As soon as he was seated, the elder goblin began. "So, Mr. Potter, you've finally returned to us. My name is Turuk, descendent of the House of Ragnok. I must admit I'd expected you sooner, but am glad that it seems that Mr. Dumbledore has been taking care of you as per your parent's will."

Harry's eyes narrowed and his nostrils flared, but other than that he showed no outward reaction. "And what is that supposed to mean, Sir Turuk? I must admit that I have no knowledge of my parent's wills, nor any of this so-called 'Dumbledore'. Should I?" He asked innocently; meanwhile observing out of too-suspicious emerald eyes. However the goblin reacted to this knowledge would directly impact any future proceedings.

To his hidden pleasure, Harry could see and sense Turuk and Ironclaw tense minutely; and he could practically _feel _the fury radiating off the goblin in the corner.

Turuk cleared his throat, adopting an unaffected tone. "Surely your grandparents, whom are your current guardians, have told you about your parent's wills and your history? And surely you've met with Dumbledore quite a few times, as he is the executer of your estate as per your grandparents and your own signatures?"

Harry let his mask drop, displaying his righteous fury. "No," He hissed venomously, "not only have I never even _met _these so-called grandparents that you speak of; but I have not met Dumbledore once in my life, nor signed anything for him. For the past six years I have lived with my Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon, who are the most despicable excuses for Muggles on the face of the planet. As for my parent's wills and 'history', I've been under the impression that they were no-good, jobless drunks who died in a car crash, leaving me with this scar." And Harry lifted up his fringe to expose the lightning-bolt mark to the shocked and furious goblin.

"Ironclaw!" Turuk abruptly dropped the large file he had yet to open and barked at the other goblin. Harry jumped up on the chair and strained to look over the high back (_Merlin, he really hated being short again!)_ chair as Ironclaw leapt into action, pulling out a large tome from one of the many bookshelves along the wall.

Harry was shocked to realize that, instead of more pages being revealed when it was opened, there was instead a hidden compartment with a large red button, a silver rune glowing brightly upon it. Without further hesitation, Ironclaw slammed on the button. Abruptly, a red light began flashing in the room and a rune-enforced metal door slammed down; fortifying and making sure no one else could get in.

To say that Harry was shocked and a little frightened by all of this would be an understatement.

"What's going on?" He yelled, but was given no answer as Turuk grabbed his hand and dragged him over to a stone wall. He breathed on a stone, and another rune – this time a smoky gold – appeared. Turuk spit on the rune and another door opened; through with Harry was dragged with Ironclaw – who was levitating the unopened file – following directly behind him; and quickly disappeared into.

As soon as the door shut behind them, the flashing lights turned off, torches along the circular chamber were activated, and the file dropped unceremoniously to the floor; as though the string of magic Ironclaw had been using had been abruptly cut.

The two goblins breathed a temporary sigh of relief, before Turuk turned to Harry and began explaining; all the while keeping an eye on the file that Ironclaw was carrying towards the stone plinth in the middle of the room.

"Alright, while we wait for the runes to power up, allow me to explain. You see, your will _specifically _said that you were to be put in your grandparent's guardianship upon their death. If they were unavailable, Sirius Black was next in line to receive custody of you. Now, the will _also _states that Sirius Black was not the Secret Keeper of Godric's Hollow, so I'd assumed that, as there was no visible trial, the _true _perpetrator, Peter Pettigrew, had been imprisoned while your godfather was in hiding with you and your grandparents. I had assumed that you'd either been with your grandparents and Mr. Black, or just Mr. Black; pending your grandparent's death.

"Either one or the other. See, as your father took over the Headship of the Potter Line, Gringotts can only track the Head's or the Heir's life-magic. So we could tell when James Potter had died; and knew that you were still alive. But, since the late Mr. and Mrs. Potter had passed on the Headship, they were no longer on our records. Thus, we couldn't tell if they were alive or not. But when Dumbledore turned up with confirmed signed documents from yourself and your grandparents, we assumed that they were alive and taking care of you."

Harry nodded, somehow _knowing _that this was all the truth; as it made more sense than anything else. "Alright, I understand. But, that doesn't explain why you so freaked out when I mentioned me living with the Dursleys; nor why you dropped the file as though it was a Muggle bomb."

"Actually, Mr. Potter, it does." Turuk gravely intoned. "You see, outside of your grandparents and Mr. Black, there was five others listed for your guardianship. First, Alice and Frank Longbottom, who couldn't fulfill their duties for obvious reasons; followed by Ted and Andromeda Tonks, who would be your sort of god-cousins through your godfather; and then Madam Amelia Bones. While all seven of those listed previously were options; the only couple that James and Lily Potter absolute _forbade _you to be placed with were Petunia and Vernon Dursley. Absolutely, under _no circumstances_, were you to be placed with them."

Harry nodded. "Yeah, I sort of figured that out. I didn't think that Mum and Da would have deliberately left me with magic-hating, child-abusing Muggles on purpose."

Turuk hissed, filing away that little tidbit for later. He had a feeling he might need to summon his sister – a healer – before the evening was through. "Correct. It also explains why I wouldn't open that file. You see, by reading the wills and _deliberately _disobeying them; Dumbledore risked _everything_. If this was ever discovered, Dumbledore knew that, not only would he be facing life in Azkaban, no trial, but that he would be stripped of his magic, titles, and name; meanwhile putting a black mark on the entire Dumbledore name throughout all of history. It is _that _unforgiveable. It's nearly as bad as the forceful taking of blood and magic; which will immediately earn you the Dementor's Kiss."

Harry's eyes widened, and he had to pick up his voice as a gradual _humming _started to build up in the walls. "But… isn't that a bit extreme?"

Turuk shook his head. "No. The last time this happened – around a thousand years ago – Thurston Weasley, perhaps the only evil man in the Weasley Line born in the whole line, was really close to Vectoras Malfoy. When him and his wife died, they made Thurston, the godfather, sole guardian of their child, Arian Malfoy, who was five years old at the time. The will had stated that Thurston was to receive a small, but still generous stipend, to raise the child. But none except Thurston knew this, as he was the only one to have read the will.

"Twelve years later, when Arian was automatically portkeyed to Gringotts to receive his inheritance, he was found to be pale, starved, and nearly mindless. As it turned out, Thurston had kept the child in a basement since day one, only sending in the occasional house elf to feel him. Meanwhile, he squandered away nearly half of the total Malfoy fortune, using a forged signature to make himself the temporary Head of the Malfoy Line.

"As there were no laws against defying a will, Thurston was only punished for the forgery, child abuse, and neglect; and was released from a minimum-Dementor cell after ten years. The money was never returned, as it was either spent or hidden away; and because there was nothing illegal at the time about what he had done; as he had had Arian's signature for most of it. That's why, to this day, there is a feud between the Malfoys and the Weasleys. And, as Thurston was blood-godfather to Arian, the Weasleys are also branded as Blood Traitors. For centuries it was nearly impossible for a Weasley to get a job, and many had to resort to earning money in the Muggle world. And still, to this day, neither the Malfoys or Weasleys have regained their previous wealth."

Horrified by the story that Turuk had told him, Harry paled and hoarsely whispered, "So… what happened to Arian Malfoy?"

Turuk looked at him sadly (or as sadly as a goblin could look) before shaking his head. "He didn't make it. Merely weeks after being found and reintroduced to sunlight, Arian died; leaving to Malfoy titles to a lesser side-Line . Also, with the death of the main-Line; the magic of the Malfoys never quite was as strong as it was before."

Harry nodded, sickened, remembering what his Da had told him about magic and abilities being passed through the father's blood. Harry shook his head, determined to think about it later.

He looked towards the plinth, seeing that Ironclaw was just finishing a circle of runes around it. The humming had reached a near-deafening pitch.

"_What about the file_? _And the room_?" Harry yelled, and Turuk grabbed the boy and moved him behind a protective barrier before leaning towards his ear and explaining.

"_Like I said, Dumbledore knew it was illegal and what the punishment would be. So we know that he would have set up precautions – deadly ones – to make sure no one ever found out! In cases such as these, we've learned to check everything that the criminal has come into contact with! In this case, that would be the file! The red alarms will have alerted the Guard-Goblins as to the danger; and as soon as we've made sure that the threat has passed, they will be allowed into the chamber and will refer to you for legal recourse!"_

"_ME?" _Harry yelped, though inside he jumped with malicious glee. _"You mean that __**I **__get to decide his punishment?"_

"_Of course, as the legal party we will wait until your decision before taking any action! After that, we'll go over your inheritance and fix anything unauthorized changes that Dumbledore has done! Though, by the sound of it, that'll be __**all **__of the changes!_

"_As for the room, the only magic that will work in here is Goblin Rune-Magic! It's a testing chamber to detect, examine, disarm, and identify any and all harmful or malicious wizard magic! The loud humming in the walls is the runes powering up!"_

Harry nodded, unable to speak a response as the now-_roaring _echoed around the chamber, a nearly-deafening pressure on his eardrums. Harry looked to his left in time to see Ironclaw leap behind the barrier and mouth "_**NOW!**_" (although he might have been screaming; but Harry couldn't tell).

Before Harry could think anymore on that subject, Turuk nodded and pulled on a rune-covered lever that Harry hadn't noticed before. Suddenly, there was an _explosion _of wind and air, a massive and blinding flash of red and purple light, and a clap of thunder so loud and echoing that it popped Harry's eardrums and caused the room to quake.

And then there was silence. Absolute, deafening, complete silence.

* * *

><p>None of the three moved for several seconds.<p>

After a minute – that seemed more like an eternity – while the dust settled and a few remaining red and purple sparks faded; a loud, slightly panicked-sounding banging echoed throughout the cavernous stone room.

At the sound, the two goblins gathered their wits. Ironclaw rushed to open the door (carefully avoiding the suddenly ominous-looking folder); while Turuk swiftly maneuvered the only-slightly taller Harry behind him and shepherded him to the relative safety of the previously abandoned office.

Harry was shocked and slightly frightened when ten Guard-Goblins – distinguishable by their razor-sharp weapons and menacing black dragon-armor – surrounded himself and Turuk and swiftly ushered them out of the office. Harry barely managed to glimpse over his shoulder Ironclaw leading a similarly-sized group of Guard-Goblins into the still slightly-smoking chamber; before they were in the corridor and the door shut behind them.

Harry gripped Turuk's hand in a rare show of adolescent fear as they stumbled along; from corridor to corridor, the twists and turns nearly as disorienting and numerous as the first time Harry'd ever taken the carts in his previous life. For some reason, Harry found the craggy, elderly goblin one of the most comforting presences since he'd returned to this life. Maybe because, most probably, he was one of only two people from this time that sincerely cared for his well-being (the other being the absent Padfoot).

Finally, after an age and a half, they reached a metal door covered in intricate silver shapes and designs. They intertwined and twisted into no definable pattern; seeming to have no ending and no beginning.

The lead Guard-Goblin set down the lantern (he/she'd lit it when they'd reached so far below ground that the torches no longer were automatically lit) and ran it's long, clawed fingernail in a confusing array of straight lines, squiggles, and dots in the empty air before the impenetrable-looking door.

Finally, with a sudden and abrupt sound in the echoing silence that made Harry jump, the goblin rapped sharply in the dead-center of the door. Before his eyes, Harry could see all of the designs that the Guard-goblin had drawn into the air come to _life_; glowing and appearing one by one seemingly randomly, before sinking into the metal door.

Harry watched as they glowed brighter and brighter, before suddenly merging into the center and creating a nearly-blinding rune; before vanishing. Struggling to see through the spots that had appeared in his eyes at the sudden light then absence-of, Harry could barely see the silver designs on the door moving and swirling around until a small, goblin-sized door appeared right before them, previously hidden by the intricate pattern of silver.

Without further ado, the Guard-Goblin picked up the lantern and opened the door. He entered, followed by two more goblins, before something clicked; and the doorway was flooded with light as if someone had flipped a switch. Turuk quickly tugged on Harry's hand, leading him into what Harry could only assume was a safe-house of sorts; before the door shut behind them with a note of finality – leaving the other seven goblins to guard the corridor.

Abruptly, Harry realized that not once did any of them talk.

* * *

><p>Harry examined their 'safe-vault' while they were, apparently, awaiting Ironclaw's return. Surprisingly, it was rather well furnished in colors of cream and forest green. Not at all like the war-bunker setting that he had been envisioning. But rather than a desk, him and Turuk were seated on plush pillows around a low polished stone table that exuded a pleasant warmth.<p>

When Harry had asked about this, Turuk had given him a rare smile before explaining that it was an unknown secret that Gringotts was built over a Heatrock vein. Apparently, there was an accident centuries ago, where a wizard had attempted to invent the warming charm. Unfortunately, he overpowered it, and ended up feeding his very essence into the spell before it exploded. Years later, it was found that a certain dark, navy-blue rock gave off heat. It was named, rather unimaginatively, Heatrock. The goblins discovered the largest, longest vein, and built Gringotts upon it. It kept the vaults far below ground from freezing, thus allowing Purebloods their High-security without freezing their knickers off (Harry'd sniggered when Turuk said this). Also, this created perfect housing conditions for the many guard-dragons in their employ.

Nearly every below-ground office and vault was either made up of or had a piece of Heatstone in it. The vault that they were currently hiding in was no exception.

After this explanation was over, and Ironclaw _still _hadn't returned, Harry tried to strike up conversation with the three Guard-goblins in the room. No such luck. They just stared, unmoving, nearly unblinking, ahead. Harry was eerily reminded of those stone-faced guards with the fuzzy hats at the entrance to Buckingham Palace that Harry'd seen once on the Dursley's telly. Harry quickly left them alone.

Just as Harry was about to fall asleep under Turuk's fond gaze, the door glowed behind him. Harry jerked up from where his head was nodding off against the remarkably comfortable stone surface of the table; turning around in time to see permanently-scowling Ironclaw and his merry band of identically-expressioned Guard-Goblins.

They door hadn't even closed behind them before Harry was firing off questions, "What's happening? What was the explosion? What's with all the runes? Why are we here? Why is everyone freaking out? Where is the file? _Why aren't you answering any of my questions_?"

Surprisingly, Turuk laughed before holding up one wrinkled, gnarled hand to halt the onslaught of queries. Harry flushed lightly at his adolescent behavior… he'd have to figure out why he was acting like that… "Easy, young Mr. Potter," Turuk lowered his hand and motioned for Ironclaw to take a seat to Turuk's right and Harry's left. Meanwhile, seven of Ironclaw's ten guards took up stations around the room while the other three joined Harry and Turuk's seven already in the corridor; dividing them perfectly. "All will be answered. First, however, Ironclaw. I trust that the danger has been neutralized?"

Ironclaw grunted in answer before reaching into his top pocket and enlarging the mysterious, once-oh-so-dangerous file; setting it with a muffled _thump _on the stone table. Without further prompting, the surly goblin began explaining, "There were two spells upon the folder, both cast by Albus Dumbledore. The first one, judging by the residual spell-aura left over, was particularly malicious curse – yes, Mr. Potter, even for goblins." He smirked at Harry's first incredulous, then sheepish look. "If the folder was open and Albus Dumbledore's magical signature was _not _in the room, the file would explode. If, by chance, anyone survived the explosion – say by finding casting a _Protego _or being particularly lucky – the attached curse would ensure no survivors. It would attach itself to the magical core of either wizard or goblin, and eat you from the inside out."

Harry turned green, and Turuk's fists clenched in fury and horror. "And the second spell, Ironclaw."

"An alert coupled with a powerful force-apparation. He would have immediately been alerted to the attempted viewing of the file, and would be apparated straight into the office; whereupon he could erase any and all evidence that would lead back to him." Ironclaw even looked a little pale, realizing how close they all had been to total annihilation.

Harry took a shuddering breath, before drawing on the forced calm that he'd had to learn during the Second War, lest he go mad from terror and panic. "But… we're safe now, right? We have the file with all of the evidence, Dumbledick hasn't been alerted of our knowledge, and we're alive. So… good, right?"

Turuk seemed to gather himself, before nodding the affirmative (Ironclaw just stared at the eerily calm seven-year old). "Yes, indeed. Now that the danger has temporarily passed, we can get to reviewing your file. But first… what action do you want us to take against, as you so eloquently put it, Dumbledick?"

Harry grinned before sitting back to think it over. He knew that he could demand for Dumbledore's arrest, magic, and even life. And yet, Harry had to also think about the future, his past, the one that he hoped to change. While it would be so much simpler for him to just eliminate Dumbledore now, he knew that he couldn't do that.

If Dumbledore was taken care of under the full brunt of the law, there was no telling who the Ministry would appoint as Headmaster in his stead. And Harry knew, no matter Dumbledore's many faults, Lucius Malfoy as Headmaster would be immanently more terrible. At the same time, Harry also knew that the Wards on Hogwarts had to have been purposefully lowered, if a Quirrellmort, basilisk, animagus escaped criminal, polyjuiced Death Eater, and a blood-wielding toady had been allowed to run amock. So, essentially, Harry's couldn't get rid of Dumbledore, nor could he in good conscious allow him to stay.

Suddenly, Harry had a solution.

"I can't get rid of him, because it would mess everything up; and yet, if he stays as powerful as he is now, the cost would be just as terrible." Oblivious to the two goblins' confused looks, Harry leaned forwards with a shit-eating grin. "My punishment is that, every year, Dumbledore loses one-eighth of his magic. So that way, by the time I'm in First Year, he's already down half his magic. At that point, every six months he'll lose another one-sixteenth; and by my Fifth Year he'll be no more than a politically powerful Squib. At that point, I'll decide what to do. Because, no matter what retribution I take, he'll be unable to retaliate magically in any way, shape, or form.

"And, for the best part, I want his magic funneled into the Wards of Hogwarts. Hopefully, that will be enough to change some significant events."

Before Turuk or Ironclaw could question what Harry meant by that, one of the Guard-Goblins (Harry assumed the leader), stepped forward and intoned, "It shall be done." He held out his clawed hand, and Ironclaw reached into his tunic and removed a vial with a glowing purple strand, labeled _'Albus Dumbledore's Aura/Magical Signature'_.

After the Guard-Goblin had received the vial, he left with four others; presumably to wherever they needed to go to removed Dumbledore's magic on a timed schedule. Harry allowed himself a small, self-satisfied smile. Already, he was giving Dumbledore hell (like his Da said) and fixing things (like his mum said). He couldn't wait to tell Padfoot.

On that note…

"Turuk?" He waited for the affirming nod. "I assume you heard that Sirius Black, my innocently-imprisoned godfather, escaped this morning?" Harry took Turuk's wide, toothy grin as an affirmative. "Well, and don't ask me how I know this, but he's looking for me. As I ran away from the Muggles this morning, he won't find me there. The next place he'll come to will be here, Gringotts. He may come in looking like a skinny, large, grim-like black dog. If at all possible, I'll need to stay here for the night until he arrives, upon which time we'll reevaluate our options."

Turuk nodded, taking Harry's information and request at face value; which the not-child appreciated. "Of course, we'll all be staying here until all details have been ironed out and you've been deemed safe. Your family is one of our oldest, most respected clients, and we'll do _anything _to keep you protected. Besides… I was hoping that you'd consent to being seen by a Healer, my sister in fact, this evening."

Harry sat back and thought about it. In his mind, it had really been a long time since he'd last been abused. What with the war and Voldemort and running, the Dursleys had been the last thing on his mind. However, in this time, Harry could now feel the lingering aches and acute pains that his seven year old body had gone through; that he had, until this time, pushed into the back of his mind so that he hardly paid attention. He realized, also, that in order to change the future; he would have to change himself. And one of those changes would have to be acknowledging the abuse and facing it. Harry knew that, with Sirius who already knew everything, it would be easier to heal because his godfather would already understand. Also, this information could be used against Dumbledore in court, should push come to shove. Laid out like that, there was really only one course of action to take.

Harry nodded. "Yeah… then, umm… you could, I mean we could… it might be best to put it with the evidence folder against Dumbledick. Y'know… if we should ever need it…"

Turuk and Ironclaw exchanged significant glances, before nodding gravely. They'd had such suspicions, but had desperately hoped – as much as reality-hardened goblins could really _hope_ – that they would be unfounded. It was not to be.

Unwilling to allow the vault to descend into awkward silence, Turuk, for the first time since Harry had entered the bank mere hours earlier – yet seemed like an eternity ago – opened the Potter File.

Upon viewing his Inheritance, it would end up being a good thing that Harry'd already determined Dumbledore's punishment; otherwise Dumbledore would have woken up the next morning a magic-less Squib.

So such was Harry's rage, fury, and indignation. And his pain.

* * *

><p>Turuk finally shut the file and rubbed his eyes tiredly, observing the clearly devastated child across from him. He nodded to Ironclaw, who was equally shocked and furious, who understood the silent command and left the room; taking two of the outside guards with him.<p>

Meanwhile, Harry didn't even notice his departure, so immersed in his thought he was. From what Harry could tell, Dumbledore had managed to squirrel away more than thirty-four million galleons of the Potter fortune. While that was no more than a dent, it was still shocking the level of depravity that Dumbledore had lowered himself to.

But, what was perhaps the most appalling, was what Dumbledore had done to _other's _Inheritances. Apparently, several smaller families who had no living heir, had instead bequeathed all their belongings and titles to the 'Boy-Who-Lived' upon their deaths. Every one of the Family Names were bled dry. But, most terrible, was that several of the smaller families were Death Eater ones.

For example, the Dolohovs. Apparently, Grandfather Dolohov, who was the Head of the Family, was disappointed with his grandson's choice in following the Dark Lord. So, in his will, he named the Boy-Who-Lived as executer of his vaults and estates. Provided that Grandson Dolohov could prove sufficiently to Harry that he would renounce Voldemort and pledge allegiance to the Boy-Who-Lived; he would receive all his Inheritance back.

But, when Dolohov approached Dumbledore, the executor of _Harry's _estates, about repealing his beliefs in hopes to make his beloved grandfather proud; he was informed that his Inheritance had already been spent and no longer existed, and that he'd have to make his own way in the world. Dolohov's four year old daughter, who'd required an expensive treatment to cure her of a rare disease, died three months later because no one would hire a suspected Death Eater.

It was at that point that Dolohov swore revenge against the Light and the Boy-Who-Lived, as described in a horrifically detailed and pain-filled letter from Dolohov that had been found in the folder.

And, only Harry knew, rather than a mere Death Eater healer as he'd been for five months for the Dark Lord in the First War; he became one of the most sadistic and cruel and brilliant strategists and torturers of the Second War. Avery's tale was just as horrific.

All because of Dumbledore's callousness and cruelty.

It almost made Harry want to sick up.

One of the first things that Harry did was to recover as much as he could of the Dolohov Inheritance and give monetary compensation for what couldn't be found; and send it off to the last living heir with a letter with as much explanation as Harry could give. But, Harry knew, it would probably already be too little, too late; because his daughter had already been dead for two years.

Harry knew that that was all he could do to correct what Dumbledore had done, because anything more, like recovering the millions he'd stolen, would alert Dumbledore that he, Harry, knew. And, regardless of whether he was the Prophesy Child or not, that would decrease Harry's lifespan to zero. But, Harry resolved himself, he _would _have his revenge, his retribution. He would squeeze _every last drop _of money, blood, sweat, tears and magic from Dumbledore; until he was nothing more than a sobbing, pathetic excuse of an old goat. And Harry would just sit by and _laugh_ at his pain.

Before Harry could sink too far into his fantasies of Dumbledore writhing in agony at his feet; the door behind him opened again to reveal Ironclaw, this time bearing a shimmering crystal, pensieve-like basin.

As it was set on the table before him, Harry could see the miniscule, eerie runes along the rim; so natural and perfect that they looked to have been part of the crystal since the dawn of time.

But, unlike many of the pensieves that Harry'd encountered during his previous life, this one was completely empty. At least, for the moment.

Turuk pulled out a pair of gold-framed, half-moon glasses and perched them on the end of his hooked nose. He leaned down and began tapping certain runes; which then flared yellow before fading into a dull, burnt orange. Meanwhile, he explained his actions. "This particular basin is used for several different rituals, whether inheritance or blood or creature. Sometimes certain calibrations are used by the Seer's Temple to view the past, present, and future." None of the goblins in the room noticed Harry's minute tensing at those words. "But, in this case, we're just viewing your Blood Inheritance. There." Turuk grunted in satisfaction and sat back as all the runes he'd selected glowed yellow once again, before changing into a grass-green. Gradually, the basin filled with a light lilac-colored liquid.

"Seven drops of blood, Mr. Potter." Ironclaw motioned to the bowl impatiently; and Harry was amused to note that the goblins were nearly as excited as he was about what might be revealed.

Without further hesitation, Harry bit into his finger and let seven drops of blood fall into the faint purple water. There was a brief, frozen moment where they all watched the crimson liquid swirl and twist in the water; before it seemed to _suck _into a cyclone and… disappear.

Abruptly, the once-purple water turned a pure, solid onyx; while glowing, sparkling golden letters began forming in the impenetrable black. Harry leaned forward to read his Inheritance. And, despite what his parents had told him, nothing could have prepared him for what was written in the Ritual Basin:

_Harry James Potter; Pureblood_

_Son of James Charlus Potter: Pureblood of the Potter, Gryffindor, and Merlin Lines_

_Son of Lily Anne Evans: Half-Blood of the Slytherin and Hufflepuff Lines_

Harry choked on his breath, shocked and unbelieving. Instinctually knowing what to do, Harry let another drop of his blood to fall over his Mum's name; whereupon it quickly expanded, revealing more information than Harry ever wanted or needed to know.

_Lily Anne Evans; Half-Blood_

_Daughter of Harold Jacob Evans: Minor Squib of the Hufflepuff Line_

_Daughter of Rose Camellia Cooper, born Camellia Merope Riddle: Half-Blood Squib of the Slytherin Line; Twin Sister to Thomas Marvolo Riddle_

Harry gasped again, clutching his shirt over his heart as he struggled to draw air. He felt gnarled hands easing him to put his head between his knees, but took no notice of it; too concentrated on drawing oxygen into his starved lungs and making sense of this newest shock.

'_Merope Gaunt must have given birth to twins… but how could Tom have not known this? Unless… girls are much more likely to be adopted… and if the cruel orphanage handlers never told Tom of his twin sister… the magical bond that was never allowed to settle would have not only driven Tom to eventual madness and insanity, but also send Harry's grandmother into an early grave. And thus the cruelty of Muggles strikes again. Oh Merlin…'_

When Harry felt that he could breathe again, he sat up and gave the two surprisingly worried-looking goblins a reassuring smile. When he felt that he could handle it, Harry peeked once again at the life-altering golden words. Suddenly, he frowned in confusion. "Really quick… so, I'm a pureblood? Mum was a Half-Blood simply because she didn't have two sets of magical grandparents. But, since my Mum's parents were magical – regardless of blood status – and so were my Da's, that makes me a Pureblood?"

At Turuk and Ironclaw's confirmatory nods, Harry adopted his best mate Ron's signature catchphrase: "_Bloody hell…"_

However, Harry noticed that while he was fixated on the life-altering words; the goblins couldn't seem to make up their minds to be more disconcerted with the black, inky liquid or the glimmering golden lexis.

"What'sa matter?" Harry queried, looking back and forth between the frowning goblins and the crystal bowl; wondering if there was something that he was missing.

"The color of the water, the words… it's just not possible…" Ironclaw muttered, glaring almost challengingly at it; as though it was it's fault for defying what was, for Ironclaw, written scripture.

Seeing that, if anything, this only made Harry even more confused, Turuk gathered himself enough to give a comprehensive answer. "First of all, the color of the water is sort of a ready-made tell, for us. It lets us see if the one getting their inheritance tested is mature enough to handle the responsibility as per the particular family's specifications. A person might be of age; but that didn't say anything about their ability to handle the Family Name. So, whenever a Blood Inheritance test is done; the lilac-colored liquid will change to tell us if the person is mature enough to inherit the headships to those particular families. Light Grey is synonymous with infantile, while Dark Grey signifies old-soul maturity.

"But never, _never, _in the history of the goblin nation, has there ever been a person with all-black. It would mean that you are mature beyond what most war-hardened, seasoned generals would be. And you're only seven years old. Care to explain that, Mr. Potter."

At this point, Harry was pale white, and his lips were pressed tightly together. Harry leaned back, eyes immediately flicking around the room, looking for possible escape routes; even though he knew that the only one was behind him. He cleared his throat roughly and rasped out, "And the golden letters? What's the big deal with those, I mean, besides the obvious?"

Seeing that Harry wasn't going to answer – at least for now – Turuk and Ironclaw exchanged a glance before, this time, Ironclaw took up the explanations. "The color of the words is also a tell for us. Red signifies Polyjuice potion, Blue signifies metamorphmagus, and Green signifies creature inheritance. If none of these are in use, the color of the words is a standard White. But _Gold… _well, that's never happened before, either. But in this case, we don't even have a _clue_ of what that could mean. Obviously, Mr. Potter, you have something in your blood that's never been seen before… something that's never previously existed."

Harry mouthed silently, not knowing what to say or how to explain himself. Because he really couldn't. I mean, what do you really say? _Heya, I'm a time-traveling wizard from ten years in the future. Now, forget that, in reality, that's impossible; and focus on the fact that I'm also here to completely rewrite and change the future – which, coincidentally, is sort of against the law. Oh, and in case you were wondering, Magic sent me here. Isn't it great? By the way, name's Harry Potter. How's your day been?_

Pfft, yeah right.

But, before Harry could think of a plausible explanation (that _didn't _land him in a Happy House), the vault door slammed open behind them. And, before Harry could even fully turn around and see who made the disturbance, every goblin in the room – be it Guard, Teller, or Account-Manager – dropped to their knees and bowed.

Harry slowly looked up from the prone figures of Turuk and Ironclaw, only to meet the hard, flint-like eyes of the Goblin King: Ragnok.

Inside Harry's head, an exasperated voice that sounded a lot like Hermione sighed, _What impossible thing have you managed to do now, Harry James Potter?_

Harry just shrugged, resigning himself to the inevitable.

* * *

><p>"We know exactly what you are Mr. Potter, and we know what you are here to do." To Harry's ever-increasing surprise, it was Irisheart, the batty old she-goblin that had reacted so strangely earlier, that spoke; having stepped from behind the taller frame of her King. Well, at least Harry knew why now.<p>

"Wh-what do you mean? I'm just… I'm just here to iron out my Inheritance…" he looked over his shoulder at the eerily-colored basin behind him. "However strange it might be…"

"There is no use lying to us, Harry James Potter, Time-Child. For, not only has the Inheritance results confirmed everything that Irisheart, my sister, already told me; but I have the ability to see when someone is lying to me, whether deliberately or by omission. Not to mention, I can _see _your Aura, and what exactly you are."

"Oh yeah?" Harry snorted incredulously. That didn't make sense, as he was the second one to have gone through this ritual (and lived/succeeded), and as such there really wasn't a _name_ or category for what he was. "What am I, then?"

Or so he thought…

"You're the Emerald Heir. You're the Time-Child."

Harry's chin dropped to the Vault floor. "Wh-what…"

"Sit down, and let us explain." Ragnok made an errant flick of his hand, and Harry suddenly found himself sitting firmly in one of the cushioned bags. Harry noticed that the other goblins, Turuk and Ironclaw included, were still prone upon the stone floor, at the same time that Ragnok did. "Get up!" He snapped, and Harry jumped as the goblins immediately obeyed. "You are all dismissed."

"Wait!" Harry cried out, making everyone freeze and all eyes to turn to him. Harry blushed, but pushed determinedly on. "I… I would like both Turuk and Ironclaw to stay. They saved me… and… and I trust them."

Harry wouldn't know for years to come what powerful, ancient magic he'd activated between himself and the Goblin Nation.

After giving first him, and then the two equally-shocked goblins an assessing look, Ragnok nodded and motioned again; and two more soft seats appeared on either side of Harry, his two goblin friends firmly seated seconds later.

Ragnok snapped, and the pensieve-like bowl, and all its impossible contents, vanished; leaving only a heavily-laden letter. Ragnok picked it up and smacked it into Harry's nerveless hands, giving a hasty explanation; obviously impatient to move onto more important matters. "In this envelope is your transcripted Inheritance. Also in there are the rings to the family holdings that you are entitled to. When we are done, open the envelope and put on the rings. Turuk will tell you the rest, _later_."

Not giving Harry a moment to respond or ask any of the thousand of questions buzzing around in his head like a cloud of doxies, Ragnok clapped and summoned himself and Irisheart near-identical high-back thrones, though his was noticeably larger.

To Harry, it was obvious that Ragnok was a no-nonsense goblin, with no patience… at all.

"Now, I will speak, and you will listen. Save any and all _pertinent _questions until the end, whereupon I shall do my best to answer them. Until then, _you are silent_." It was almost humorous how identical Harry, Turuk, and Ironclaw looked, nodding their heads frantically as they were.

"Sufficient. My story begins where all should; the beginning. I have no doubt you've heard of Merlin. However, in this current ignorant climate, there are not many who know of Avalon; the mystical land where Merlin was rumored to have come from, that eventually disappeared into the Mists of Time. This is true. However, not in the way that you might think.

"For you see, Merlin was the first Wizard, but _not _the first to wield Magic. At that time, there was a race called the Immortals. They practiced every branch of magic, and never died. However, there was no evil or cruelty or murder. They were all, every single last one, completely innocent and pure and Light. To be completely in tune with Magic, was to be completely good. They never thought themselves above the other races, and believed in the inherent goodness of all beings.

"Even Muggles; and this would prove to be their downfall.

"Back then, just as it is now, Muggles were a scourge and a disease upon the earth. They could be cruel, malicious, spiteful, evil. Yet, sometimes, they could also be kind and good and creative. It was this that the Immortals concentrated on, ignoring the rest – for they could not fully understand it – and existing in naïve bliss.

"However, it was not to last. At the time, there were many wars; and a particularly sadistic and insane warlord thought of a plan. What if he were to give produce an heir with incredible powers, to be his perfect weapon. And heir… with Immortal blood.

"A young, twelve year old Immortal child, named Wren Starling, was out picking flowers for the Spring Ritual when she was attacked and captured. You see, she had reached her body's maturity, but not her Magic's, and so she could not fight back. She was raped continuously for two months before her young body became pregnant with child." Harry's mouth was wide open and tears were trickling down his face; and he could only continue to listen in silent horror.

"Eight and a half months later, the warlord looked to be losing his war, and so commanded that his heir be born immediately. She was strapped down and forced to watch as they cut open her stomach and stole her child. At that moment, because of her agony and terror, the now thirteen year old child's inheritance came four years too early. The backlash killed not only the warlord and his whole army, but herself as well. The only survivor was the newborn baby in the wreckage.

"It unknown if Merlin possessed some Earth-Magic, or if the Forest was sentient, or even if it was because of the Immortal mother's dissipating Magic, but the Forest came to life and took in the child; where he was raised by Nature herself, until he eventually came into his own Inheritance. At that point, he became the first Wizard. Eventually he met the last Nymph, the Lady of the Lake, who had a crush on him and was given Excalibur; now known as Gryffindor's Sword, which now resides within your vault. She was later hunted down, taken advantage of, and murdered. But the rest of Merlin's story, as they say, is history.

"However, it was discovered that, because of the taint of evil Muggle blood, Merlin and all his decedents were not Immortal. Seeing the destruction and horrors that these evil-tainted and selfish Wizards were inflicting upon Avalon, the Immortal City, in order to obtain eternal life; they vanished, with their Island, never to return. The Island of Avalon became the Lost Land of Mists… and eventually was lost to Time and History.

"That is what is known. But what is _not _known is that Avalon continued watching, growing more and more horrified as they witnessed what the evil of Muggles was doing to their fellow Magical Races. So they would return every now and again, to rescue a dying magical race or species. Vampyra, Lycans, Valkyrie, Drackens, Elves, the last of the Sibylline Oracles; were among the few that the Immortals were able to save. But the damage had been done. The Nymphs and Dryads were lost forever, and Muggles had infected nearly every Magical Race, and their twisted results still crawl the earth today.

"Only two Races stayed behind. The Centaurs, so that they might predict the Return of Avalon, as it is written in the stars, and try to protect what magical brethren are left. The second… is us, the Goblins. For we are those entrusted with protecting the lost and rare Magicals, informing Avalon, and getting them there, to safety. The laws of Magic state that there must at least be three – a magical number – of a new Race before it can be considered a _Magical _Race; yet if there were less than twenty it made that Magical Race in danger of extinction.

"You are the third Time-Child, therefore you are recognized at the last of your Magical Race. Therefore, that means that you are eligible for Avalon. And, as you are underage, you will be able to attend Myst University."

Harry sat back, eyes wide with shock and mind nearly overloaded with information. He was, technically, the last of a Magical Race. He now had the chance to go to school in Avalon, the Unplottable, invisible and Lost Land. Where Dumbledore and Voldemort could not reach him. Where he could learn what he needed in complete safety and anonymity until he had to return to Hogwarts.

It was almost too good to be true.

"Can I… is Padfoot allowed to come with me?" Harry questioned; knowing that, if he were separated from his godfather he wouldn't set _foot _in Avalon, protection from Dumbledore or no.

"Yes, I'm sure something can be arranged, given who you are…" However, Harry's thought were too spacey and scattered to pay attention to his alluded 'special treatment', though Ragnok's tone of voice suggested that it was for reasons far outside his 'Boy-Who-Lived' status.

"Good… good, um… can… can I talk to Sirius about it first? I mean… is there a deadline , or…"

Ragnok nodded and stood. "I will give you six hours from the time the Grim Lord arrives to give me your answer. That is all the time you will be given. Turuk will assist you with the rest of your Inheritance in the meantime. Until then, good evening."

And he stood up to leave, Irisheart following closely behind him. Harry, remembering something, cried out, "WAIT!"

Ragnok didn't even falter, continuing off down the corridor with his Guard following closely behind. However, Irisheart turned and looked at Harry expectedly, as though already knowing what he was about to ask and only waiting for him to voice it.

"What was it with the golden letters in the basin? I mean, I understand the black maturity-thingy water, but what's wrong with my blood that the color of the calligraphy was gold?"

Irisheart smiled softly, before speaking. "It is how we identified those of your kind through time. The gold in your blood is a mysterious element, hypothesized to be pure magic, that seeped into your magical core and thereby your blood when you traveled through time. Other mortals and even Immortals are bound by time, and are not allowed to change it without tearing the very fabric of space and time. However, it's this magical element in your blood that allows you to be what you are. You can change the future to whatever you want it to be, while healing and altering the fabric of time flawlessly, and thereby keeping it from being torn asunder and plunging all into chaos and destruction.

"It's the Magic in your blood that makes you a Time-Child. We call it the Paradox Gene."

And with that, Irisheart left, letting the door close with a muffled _thump _behind her.

* * *

><p>Harry sighed as he stretched out on the couch, fully intending to sleep for the next century.<p>

The four hours after Irisheart had left had been tiresome and grueling. Turuk had immediately had Harry put on his Inheritance Rings, before proceeding with combining his vaults and holdings. After the Potter, Gryffindor, Merlin, and Slytherin vaults had been combined (because Harry's grandfather was only a minor Squib of the Hufflepuff Line, Harry couldn't take ownership of the vaults; especially since there were more legitimate Heirs alive at this time – like the Bones) Turuk set two trustworthy – only because they were sworn into an Oath – goblins to making a comprehensive inventory of his main High-Security Vault. As soon as it was ready, Harry planned to review it with Sirius when he arrived.

After that, though, was perhaps the hardest part. Turuk had called in his sister, Maruk, and, after assuring that she could tell no one as she was under a Healer's Oath, had her examine Harry – extensively. That alone had taken two hours. Two grueling and tedious hours where she documented every scar and broken bone, and asked for the story behind each one. Harry was proud to say he'd only broken down three times.

But, finally, it was done, and the report was safely stored away with the rest of the evidence that they had against Dumbledore.

With the sound of Turuk scratching signatures and orders upon parchments from his desk and Ironclaw meticulously scanning the room for dangers; Harry, feeling safe beneath his two goblin friend's ever-watchful gazes, fell into a deep sleep.

His last thought, before he fell into the waiting arms of Morpheus, was how Padfoot would react to Harry, once again, doing the impossible.

Probably laugh his arse off.

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN: Okay… you SO owe me for this chapter. It's officially the longest chapter I've written in one go (I think) and it has so much information and plot twists that it was rather hard to keep track of them all. I expect LOTS of Owls, letting me know how much you love and adore my story.**_

_**Warning: Any and all Howlers will be used to burn Dumbledore at the stake.**_

_**Also, for all those wondering, Dumbledore is NOT evil. He's just so blinded by the "Greater Good" and his manipulations and power and he fails to see that his pawns are people too. He suffers from the same bigotry and prejudice that the rest of the wizarding world does; and as such allows the world to fall into ruin because of his own inaction and manipulations. Because of his own misguided thoughts coupled with his power and influence, he inadvertently will have caused the end of everything. That is what Harry's here to fix, admittedly in a far more final and extreme manner than you would ever anticipate.**_


	6. The Curse

_**A/N: For all those who are wondering, YES, Harry will eventually go to Hogwarts. However, going to Avalon will give him a chance to learn what he needs in order to eventually face Dumbledore and Voldemort and fix everything. However, don't become complacent. There's plenty of surprises and plot twists to come… some that you will never have seen coming. Also, yes, the prophesy is still real; it's not fake. Another thing that's different than other fics of this caliber… And here's Chapter Six!**_

* * *

><p>As Harry slept and dreamt of the life he now had and what he was going to change, he never suspected the great events he'd already put into play.<p>

It wouldn't be for another four years that Harry would realize just how much had changed, and not for a while after that until he learned the reasons why.

But really, you can't blame him. There was something in play, a wild card that no one could have anticipated or predicted.

And that was: The Defense Against the Dark Arts Curse.

Not even Tom Riddle, when he'd placed it before leaving Hogwarts, could have foreseen the long-term ramifications and benefits the Curse would bring him.

For you see, Tom Riddle, later known as Voldemort, hadn't known the true nature of the Curse. He just believed that it caused such bad luck that no teacher would be able to stick around for more than a year; that something would eventually harm, kill, or reveal something of the professor that would cause them to leave; there be necessitating the new hiring of another new instructor.

He'd done this in the hopes that the children of Hogwarts would grow up without a steady and comprehensive grasp of defense and strategy, thereby allowing him to eventually control and subdue the masses later in his reign. It was quite a brilliant and strategic move.

He would never know that the Curse he'd placed was the reason for his power… and his eventual salvation.

You see, every year that went by Voldemort would become more and more powerful. He used this power to awe and draw in more and more followers; and to strike fear into his enemies.

Some assumed that it was because of his Founder ancestor; Slytherin. Others that it was because of some evil Dark Arts ritual. But all agreed that it was what made and proved him to be a Dark Lord.

Yet all were wrong.

The DADA Curse didn't cast bad luck upon the professor's magic; it _sucked _their latent magic from them and bit by bit fed it back into the Curse's castor: Tom Riddle.

But there was only so much latent magic a witch or wizard had. When the Curse had finished with the latent magic and moved onto the magical core of the professor; the core automatically reacted in the defensive.

And, when the magical core realized that it couldn't fight off the Curse, it would cause a magical disaster that would require their host to leave Hogwarts, and thereby escape the curse forever.

Year after year, the Curse did this. Cycling through professor after instructor; witch after wizard; with no ending in sight. And it would have continued to do so, until someone would eventually come along and break it, far into the future.

But then, one year after Harry escaped on his seventh birthday – 365 days after the Dursleys had fled to America and Mrs. Figg tripped over one of her cats and broke her neck in her haste to inform Dumbledore – one-eighth of Albus Dumbledore's magic was drained from him in his sleep, and fed into the Wards of Hogwarts.

Now, there were safeguards built into the Wards, that would inform the Headmaster and all the Heads of Houses when they were drained too low. Due to the Headmaster, he'd lowered them as far as he could, so that he could manipulate certain things to his advantage, so that he could test and train his growing Weapon-in-Training.

It was because of the safeguards that the Curse had never dared to feed upon the magic in the Wards. In a way, the Curse was semi-aware, and it was this that would prove to be the Spirit-Voldemort's salvation.

Once all that magic was added to the Wards, the Curse sensed it. The Curse could not resist, and so, rather than the magic protecting Hogwarts and her students further, it was immediately funneled into the Curse; and by extension: Voldemort.

And so, year by year, as Harry grew in power and knowledge; things already began changing on Earth.

The magic being fed to him, magic that was a combination of Dumbledore's stolen magic and the DADA professor's latent magic, eventually made Voldemort more and more corporeal and powerful.

So powerful that he felt no need to possess kind, innocent Professor Quirrell; as he was exploring the forests of Albania. As such, Quirrell remained untainted and was able to face and defeat a blood-crazed coven of Vampires, returning to his students at Hogwarts with fantastic stories and interesting souvenirs.

He would eventually become the first to figure out a loophole around the curse, alternating teaching every three years. He would teach the first year, followed by a competent Madam Rowanleaf taking the second year, before powerful Irish Master Heron would take the third year; and then repeating the cycle. They would never know that the two year respites allowed their latent magic to replenish, thereby keeping their magical cores from needing to force them from Hogwarts. Quirrell, Rowanleaf, and Heron would become one of the most powerful Magical Trios in history; and would each receive a Merlin Award, First Class.

But all that was inconsequential, in light of the fact that Voldemort would regain his body more and more each year; all on Dumbledore's stolen magic. Thereby removing the need to go through the ritual of the Bone, Blood, and Flesh.

While Harry was gradually eliminating one enemy in Headmaster Dumbledore, he'd unknowingly created a much more powerful, increasingly more deadly one in Dark Lord Voldemort; who was even now gradually forming a new body built and made almost entirely of magic.

All because of a Dark Curse cast in a Seventh-Year's final day at Hogwarts.

Oh yes, Harry, little, sleeping, oblivious Harry, never knew what changes he'd made to the time line in one mere twenty-four hours.

And he soon wouldn't, not for another four years.

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN: This totally came to me when I was sleeping. For some reason the DADA Curse just popped into my head, and my explanation just totally made sense to me. I swear, when I had Harry stealing Dumbledore's magic, I had NO CLUE that it would work out this way. It was totally supposed to be used to keep Hogwarts more safe… but then again, as Harry will soon learn, you can't predict everything, and things very rarely work out exactly as you'd intended.**_

_**REVIEW! And keep reading! xD**_


	7. Enrollment Letter

"PUP!"

"PADFOOT!"

Harry smiled joyfully from the safety of his godfather's arms. Yes, Harry logically knew that Sirius was alive, and that he'd be coming for him. He knew that his godfather would remember everything, and that he wouldn't be lost to the Veil.

And yet, until this very moment, a part of Harry hadn't believed it. A part of Harry had continued to believe that he was still dreaming, perhaps hallucinating in his cupboard at Privet Drive. That he would wake up in Grimmauld Place, or the Forest of Dean, or maybe decimated Hogwarts; to find that all was still hopeless, still bloody and dark and filled with fear and terror. To find that Cedric Diggory was still a "spare", that Sirius was trapped in the Veil, that Remus and Tonks were only another lost couple who left a child behind in a ravaged world.

But it wasn't. He had a second chance. He was safe and happy and carefree in his godfather's arms, for the first time in his life.

Even before, before the sacrifices and deaths and second chances, Harry couldn't remember ever being held like this by his godfather – by anyone, really, as he could never expect such affection from the Dursleys. There just wasn't time. First Sirius was on the run, then locked away in the darkness of Grimmauld – only corresponding through letters and stolen Floo calls – and then finally driven by inaction to his very death; they had never really gotten the chance to fully bond. There was so much Harry didn't know of his godfather, and so much Sirius didn't know in return. In reality, this was far more than a chance to do things over… this was an opportunity to do things _right_, to have the life he should have had, had the need for revenge not driven Sirius on the mad hunt that ended in twelve years in Azkaban.

And even now, they might not have had the chance to do all they wanted – _needed – _to do. They might have been constantly on the run, learning and studying in sporadic bursts, endlessly fleeing from Dumbledore's ever-searching gaze. They would have never been safe; for it would have only been a matter of time before their coup was found out.

They _would _have… if not for the goblins. If not for this one last blessing that Magic had gifted them with.

"Sirius," Harry grinned, stepping back from the warm embrace, though not all the way, "you'll never _believe _what me, Turuk, and Ironclaw have discovered… you might want to sit down."

In response, Sirius just raised an incredulous eyebrow.

* * *

><p>Sirius' body keeled over and hit the floor with a muffled <em>thump.<em>

Harry stared in bemused shock at his godfather's unconscious body; while Turuk and Ironclaw, beside him, desperately tried to muffle amused snorts of laughter.

'_I just told him about my lineage…' _Harry thought with a very Marauder-ish grin. '_I might have to get him a Calming Draught and Pepper-up Potion for the Avalon part…'_

It was currently noon-ish the next day; ten hours after Harry had fallen into a protected sleep deep within Gringotts, after the insane and difficult revelations and testimonies of the previous 24 hours. When he'd awoken, he'd barely had thirty minutes to skim his now-combined Inheritance Vaults – while his eyebrows climbed steadily higher and higher as he viewed the grand total – that he had given the name: Emrys, after the original Merlin Line Founder – before Sirius had burst in.

Merlin came first, followed later by Gryffindor, then Peverell, and finally Potter. Obviously there were several name changes between, but those were the most notable. Adding the Slytherin Line and combining them into a single Vault made Harry, singularly, the most politically and monetarily powerful man – _er, boy_ – in all of Britain. Hell, in all of Europe. And going back to the original Founder's name – Emrys – rather than calling it the _Merlin-Gryffindor-Slytherin-Potter Vault_, and, by extension, taking that on as his Family Name, was just a good way to save on ink, in Harry's opinion.

Now, instead of Harry James Potter, or even Harry James Merlin-Gryffindor-Slytherin-Potter, Scion of the House of Black (_try signing __**that**__ on all your legal documents!)_, he was just Hadrian Jamie Orion Emrys (he hoped Sirius didn't mind him taking on his middle name).

Therefore, any and all tracking spells wouldn't work on him, as no one knew his true Magical Name; and any and all Gringotts files were one hundred percent, strictly confidential. And, if everything worked out and Sirius was as excited for this Avalon thing as he was, blood tracking spells wouldn't work either; since, for one, his blood had changed since he was reborn with the addition of the Paradox Gene, and two, his blood would technically not exist _in this time._

Because, from what Harry had managed to read before Sirius had burst through the door, hugged him, then promptly passed out upon seeing Harry's Inheritance; Avalon functioned on a totally different level of time than Earth. It was actually quite brilliant. Not only had the Immortals of Avalon made the Island a whole ten seconds _ahead _ofregular time, thereby making the Island invisible, but for every two years spent in Avalon, only one passed on Earth. Meaning, Harry could learn all he needed and more, getting a full, uninterrupted seven year education. Then, Harry could either stay there for his final year, or come back and prepare for six months before taking Hogwarts by storm.

Harry picked up the fallen file and slipped out the Avalon brochure (why the hell didn't he get anything like this for Hogwarts, or any of the other Magical Schools, for that matter? Hmm… something to look into…), skimming through it and fingering the accompanying Enrollment Letter.

The brochure's layout was done in tasteful shades of deep purple and burnished gold. The moving pictures showed a rather eclectic, yet enchanting castle. It seemed to be made up of all the best architecture in history. The front of the castle showed, from left to right, gleaming, luminous spires of crystal and glass, flowing seamlessly into Victorian-era turrets and gabled rooftops, Roman stone pillars appearing to be a flawless part of the image. Following that was grand buttresses and stained-glass windows, the paned glass sparkling and shimmering in moving images of knights and wizards of old.

There was marble, brick, stone, diamond, ruby. Even a small portion of the back of the castle seemed to be made up of the stainless steel, straight edges, double-paned glass of the most current skyscrapers and Muggle buildings.

The grounds were made up of gardens, mazes, fountains, streams. To the left seemed to be a Quidditch Pitch, though obviously smaller scaled than the one at the World Cup; and the grounds to the right of the palace seemed to be taken over by basketball, soccer, football, tennis, and even croquet courts (though, if Harry squinted, he thought he could see a kid-sized blob chasing another blob with one of the mallets before disappearing out of sight).

There was a massive, gorgeous forest that set a stunning backdrop for the castle. Not only did there seem to be every manner of tree there – from redwood to rowan to willow to ash – and from all types of climates – from desert to forest to jungle to rainforest – but they were in all manner of colors. Harry had an inkling that the trees had certain attributes and properties, of which he was particularly eager to find out. The myriad of purple oaks, green cypress, blue pines, and even a few dusty pink banana trees; made the scenery explode with color and Harry's blood boil in anticipation and long-lost childhood excitement.

According to the brochure, there were no Houses. The school was separated by year, first through seventh. That was also how they were housed, although, apparently there was some activity or sport called 'Virtusette' that spanned all years. You were chosen at try-outs by the reigning team captains, based upon your skill. There were six teams, thereby six captains, and, based upon your apparent cleverness and dexterity, you were chosen for one of the teams. Obviously, Harry thought, there were those teams that were considered more powerful or skillful than others, and therefore didn't get the pick of the litter.

But still, a friendly sport rivalry beat a school-wide, violent House-rivalry _any _day. Harry was very curious about what this new sport could be, though he didn't think he'd be jumping in head-first like he had during his first year at Hogwarts.

As Harry continued to study the brochure, alternating between that and glancing at his still-prone godfather, Harry's eyes widened as he came to the back cover. He read in shock, disbelief, and excitement:

_At Myst University, Avalon, we cater to the needs of the most rare, exotic, and powerful Magical Beings of Magical History. As we all have suffered the fear of extinction and Muggle persecution; such actions will __**NOT **__be tolerated at Myst. Any bigotry or racism against __**ANY **__of the Beings of Myst University will result in __**immediate **__expulsion, obliviation, and powerbinding._

_That's not to say, however, that we'll throw you into the River Styx without a Charon's Obol. Below is the complete list of all prestigious Magical Beings at Myst University. __**All **__accepted students will be required to completely read __**The Magical Compendium **__before entered these esteemed doors. If you are accepted, you will receive a copy of this comprehensive and rare book along with your Acceptance Letter._

_Here is the list of your potential classmates, as follows:_

_**Drackens**_

_**High Elves**_

_**Immortals**_

_**Lycans**_

_**Sibylline Oracles**_

_**Valkyrie**_

_**Vampyra**_

_Keep in mind all you have been told; and we at Myst University hope to see you grace our Majestic Halls this year._

_Sincerely,_

_Headmaster Jasper Volturus_

_Vampyra, First Class_

Harry nearly choked on his own breath.

* * *

><p>"… so I'm sorta the official last of my kind, since I'm the third to exist, so that makes me an endangered Magical Being. And that means that I'm eligible to take refuge in Avalon, and attend the school there: Myst University. And it's 'mist' with a 'Y'."<p>

And with that, Harry shoved the pamphlet into his godfather's hands; shuffling nervously from foot to foot while watching Sirius carefully for signs of a repeat attack. As soon as Sirius had regained consciousness, Harry had shoved him onto the couch, forced two Calming Draughts and one Pepper-Up down his throat, before launching into his explanation.

Now, he was watching and waiting in barely (meaning, not at all) concealed trepidation and excitement. He was _really _hoping to attend, and rather looking forward to it. Really, it was like Magic had dropped the perfect solution to their problems right in their laps; they would be fools not to take it.

At the same time, Harry didn't know Sirius' feelings about not only abandoning England, but Earth altogether. Not to mention, even in Harry's past his godfather hadn't gotten a chance to completely get over his stint in Azkaban; mainly because he'd never gotten a chance to really be _free_. He was constantly locked up in the cold and dark, using his animagus form for some sort of escape, only finding out sparse information from the occasional Owl Post. Really, Grimmauld was as much a prison for Sirius as Azkaban was.

And now, even though _this _Sirius had only spent six years in Azkaban, rather than twelve; the effects of the Dementors was only too apparent. His hair was still matted, although it wasn't nearly as long as Harry remembered it, and had not as nearly many grey hairs. His skin was just as pale and sallow, and he still stunk to high heaven. His body shook with a bone-deep cold that Harry had come to associate with his godfather; something that had just always been there, as long as he could remember knowing him. Now, though, what he had just thought was a nervous tic, he now knew was a near-permanent effect of the cold and despair upon his nerves. Almost like a slow and steady exposure to the cruciatus.

But the shakes, the hair, the skin, the pain and agony in his eyes; none were as horrible or prominent as Harry remembered from his past life. And so, he had hope that it could be rectified. That fully escaping a world that had judged and been weary of him, only to betray and abandon him in his time of need; would allow him the time he needed to heal. And what better place to do that than Avalon? What better way to flee – to completely disappear – than to escape to an entirely different dimension?

Even now, Harry could see the familiar gleam of adventure in Sirius' eye that he had only caught sight of in old photographs and stolen moments. And, as Sirius' grey, stormy eyes flicked up and met Harry's; he knew that they were going.

And, as it seemed, so did Turuk, for he pressed an eagle-feather quill in his hand with a rather feral grin.

And the final question, that sealed the deal, was: "Am I allowed to come with you."

And Harry and Turuk nodded, while Ironclaw grinned, before the raven-haired, tousled head bent over the Enrollment Letter, and began the process that would change the future… in more ways than Harry, or Sirius, or even the goblins, could have ever imagined.

* * *

><p><em>1. Last Name(s): <em>**Emrys**

_2. First Name(s): _**Hadrian**

_3. Middle Name(s): _**Jamie Orion**

_4. Date of Birth (Month/Day/Year): _**07/31/1980**

_5. Country of Birth: _**Scotland**

_6. Country of Origin (if same as above, leave blank): _**England**

_7. Current Magical Age: _**Seven/Seventeen**

_8. Magical Ethnicity (If Mixed, skip this step, check the box below and list your races): _**Time Child**

_9. Mixed Ethnicity (If NOT Mixed, refer back to step 8): ____**N/A**___

_10. First Language: _**Queen's English**

_11. If more than one, list here: _**Amateur Latin**

_12. Mother's Name (If Applicable): _**Lily Ann Potter nee Evans**

_13. Father's Name (If Applicable): _**James Charlus Potter**

_14. Guardian's Name (If Applicable): _**Sirius Orion Black**

_15. Previous Place of Education (If Applicable): _**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry**

_16. Current Year of Education (If Applicable): _**Graduate; though I want to start at the beginning…**

_17. Referred By (Select One Below):_

_a. Mother Oracle_

_b. Charon, Ferryman of Styx_

_c. Goblins (If so, name here): __**Turuk, Ironclaw, Ragnok, Irisheart **_

_d. A Member of Your Race_

_e. A Member of Another Race (If so, list here): ____

_f. Miscellaneous: ____**_**___

_18. Any Mundanes (those of Lesser Magical Race Origin; e.g. Wizards/Witches, Werewolves, Vampires, etc etc. Muggles are NOT ALLOWED) coming with you? _**YES**

_19. If so, how many? Maximum of Three._** One**

_a. List first Mundane here; full name and classification required: _**Sirius Orion Black; Wizard**

_b. List second Mundane here; full name and classification required: _**N/A**

_c. List third Mundane here: full name and classification required: _**N/A**

_20. Reason for Attending Myst University: _**I'm the official First and possible Last of my Kind. I wish to learn all that I can as quickly as I can. I want to fix all the mistakes and atrocities of my past life. I want to give myself and my godfather a chance to heal. I want to actually **_**live, **_**for once in my pathetic existence. I want to make my parents proud. And, as cheesy as it sounds, it's my destiny, my future, my fate. It's Magic's will.**

_21. After all the above information is completed, place a drop of your blood upon the line below and sign (if underage, have your parent/guardian also give a drop of blood and sign). Letter shall immediately be sent to the Headmaster's desk. Good luck, and we at Myst University hope to see you this upcoming year._

_Student: __**** **_**Hadrian Jamie Orion Emrys, Lord Emrys and Scion of House Black**

_Parent/Guardian: __**** **_**Sirius Orion Black, Head of House Black**

* * *

><p>As soon as Sirius dotted his last 'I', the letter vanished with a muffled 'pop' and a shower of glittering gold dust. Simultaneously Sirius, Harry, Ironclaw, and Turuk looked up and made eye-contact. And, as one, they exchanged excited, feral grins.<p>

Hogwarts, Dumbledore, Voldemort, and the whole bloody world wouldn't know what hit them.

And, without their knowledge, the brochure upon the couch glowed briefly violet before the words on the back page changed; automatically updating the list of potential and current students:

_Drackens_

_High Elves_

_Immortals_

_Lycans_

_Sibylline Oracles_

_**The Time Child**_

_Valkyrie_

_Vampyra_

* * *

><p>And somewhere, in a place that was above and outside of time and space; a regal man read a most peculiar Enrollment Letter.<p>

And blood-red lips stretched into a fanged, anticipatory grin.

Hell was going to break loose.

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN: Charon's Obol: It's the allusive term for the coin placed in the mouths of the dead in Greek times. It was used to bribe the ferryman of the River Styx, so that he might take you across and you could make your journey to the afterlife to be judged and, hopefully, be good enough to continue into Elysium. I've always found this myth fascinating, and thought it appropriate of a saying for a Land both lost to and transcendent of time.**_


	8. The Magical Compendium

_**A/N: Alright, here's the next chapter. Sorry for the delay. It was a right awful week, and my dad was being a total bastard. It got so bad that he threw a laptop at my mom, and we all nearly left him, but my grandparents came over and managed to convince him to go to counseling. So hopefully everything will work out now…**_

_**Anyway, I hope that you enjoy it, as well as all the explanations that I'm using. And, in case anyone gets their knickers in a twist, YES, I got permission from Starlight Massacre to use the term/species of "Drackens". I didn't have to, since they exist in real life as proved by my google-searching, but I figured I'd cover all my bases.**_

_**Hope you enjoy this installment, and that it meets up to your expectations/hopes!**_

* * *

><p>Harry and Sirius sat, staring intently, upon the thick package before them. It had appeared ten minutes ago in a flash of gold, nearly a week after the two had taken refuge in Gringotts.<p>

During that time Harry and Sirius had grown closer to their two goblin companions, until they could be found, late at night, drinking Firewhiskey (Butterbeer for Harry) and trading stories and jokes by the fire. Turuk and Ironclaw had proven excellent hosts, and knew an extensive collection of bawdy and inappropriate songs that made even the infamous Sirius Black blush.

And yet, as day after day passed in which Harry and Sirius were allowed to heal; they began to become increasingly more worried by the lack of reply to Harry's enrollment letter.

And now that it was here, before them, they found themselves at a loss for what to do.

What if it was a denial? What if Sirius wouldn't be allowed to come? What if it was an elaborate trap and they found themselves bound to servitude for all eternity to the Tooth Fairy? (Eventually, Sirius conceded that this wasn't a likely possibility. But honestly, a person of unknown size and gender who was of the habit of sneaking into children's rooms _while they were sleeping _and stealing a tooth – with some of the child's DNA – _from under their pillow _before paying them for it made for a very creepy Muggle tradition from a Wizard – or sane person's – point of view. After contemplating it, Harry had to concede _that_ point to his godfather.)

Finally, the short tempered Ironclaw – who had been watching with steadily growing impatience while Turuk laughed silently – finally stomped across the room, used his claw to break open the spellotape on the box, and took out the two objects – a letter and a book – before shoving them into Harry's startled hands.

Losing his silent battle, Turuk laughed openly now; Ironclaw joining in upon the sheepish and embarrassed blush that spread across godson and godfather's faces alike.

Allowing himself to stick his tongue out at his two new friends, but not allowing himself to delay any longer, Harry unsealed the envelope and opened the letter within, moving it over so that Sirius could read it at the same time.

_Dear Hadrian Emrys,_

_It is with great pleasure that I accept your Enrollment Letter to our Prestigious and Timeless School, Myst Academy. Keep in mind that is it an extremely secret Boarding School that is located on the Legendary Lost Island of Avalon; and as such you will be required to find lodgings for the duration of your education._

_Though, due to your status, accommodations have already been found for you; along with your Mundane Godfather, Sirius Orion Black. A pamphlet is disclosed with this letter._

_Also included are four tickets to Avalon. Yes, four. It has been Seen that your two goblin friends – Turuk nephew of Ragnok and Ironclaw son of Ironfist – will also be accompanying you on your journey. We have procured a teaching position for Turuk, of Ancient Law and Customs. Ironclaw will be our new Head of Security. It has been too long that we've had the sharp eyes of goblins watch us and our affairs; and I feel that it is long overdue. Should they choose to accept, of course, lodgings for them shall be arranged near yours._

_As specified in the Enrollment Letter, you are required to read the book that accompanied this letter: __**The Magical Compendium**__ before you can join us. You have a week, as the next available Time Ripple will pass at that time. If you are prepared and ready, your tickets will transform into your individual Time Bubbles on April 14__th__, at exactly 01:37:29pm, Your Earth Time. A representative shall be waiting for you. _

_Do not bother with school books/supplies, as that list shall be presented to you upon your arrival. Your Vaults will be available here to you as well, so you will be able to acquire all that you need at our own shopping district._

_We shall see you soon, Time-Child, and are greatly looking forward to your attendance and continued interest in our school._

_Sincerely,_

_Headmaster Jasper Volturus_

_Vampyra, First Class_

Harry, face blank, passed the letter to Turuk who began reading along with Ironclaw. Seeing the exact moment that both goblin's eyes widened and jaws dropped, Sirius and Harry lost their composure and jumped up, whooping in joy and excitement, and began dancing around the room.

And, if anyone had opened the door a moment later and caught sight of two excited, cheering goblins dancing alongside the humans; they would have fainted dead away from shock.

* * *

><p>Turuk, who had been volunteered to read due to his soon-to-be professor status, pushed his half-moon classes further up his nose and opened the thick tome, <em><strong>The Magical Compendium, <strong>_before turning it to the index.

"Hmmm… it seems that there are a total of nine chapters. There is a chapter each for all seven magical races, along with an introduction and a conclusion."

"Oh just start the bloody readin', I've got affairs to get in order if I'll be following this little shrimp around for the next who _knows _how many years!" Ironclaw scowled, although his voice lacked venom and his eyes were playful and mischievous.

Harry stuck his tongue out, Sirius captured it with his fingers, Ironclaw laughed at the indignant squeak from the child, and Turuk sighed before he began reading.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Introduction:<strong>_

You. Know. Nothing.

Before you can begin reading this book, you have to realize this. Everything that you've ever been told, everything that you've always believed, is a complete lie.

The world is not as you've been lead to believe, and you must accept this as truth before you will be ready to accept the true reality. And it is significantly darker and more terrible that what you've grown up believing.

For you see, there is a curse upon the Earth, put their by Chaos and Discord. And they have, for all of their advances and wonders, succeeded in slowly but surely destroying the world.

They have been called Abominations, Scourge, Blight, and Annihilators. Today, they are named Muggles.

By the end of this book, every pro-Muggle sentiment or emotion that you might have for these filth will be erased. It won't be easy, or painless, but that is the way of all truth.

Prepare yourselves.

* * *

><p>"Whoa…" Harry breathed, eyes wide. "That's… rather deep and creepy shit, right there."<p>

Both goblins threw the small boy a startled glance, for using such language, before remembering that he was, in mind, seventeen years old. And wasn't _that _a crazy thing to wrap your head around…

"Totally." Sirius nodded, recently trimmed, but still-long black hair bobbing with the movement. "And fascinating! C'mon Rukky, read the next chapter!"

Turuk narrowed his eyes and _growled _at the Black Lord. Unfortunately, the years in Azkaban seemed to have affected his sanity more than the goblin had thought, for the wizard wasn't fazed in the slightest. Deciding that arguing or threatening an insane man was a fruitless cause, Turuk turned back to the book (firmly ignoring the insane man's triumphant grin and Ironclaw and Harry's snickers) and started the next chapter.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Chapter One – Immortals:<strong>_

The Immortals were the first, followed by the other Magical Races. They were given Life by Mother Magic, who desired a people to share in her Gift of Magic.

These beings were nearly perfect in every way. They had the ability to live forever, never catching any disease or perishing of old age. Magic to them was just that – Magic. There was no Dark, Light, or Grey. Everything was open to them, for all was knowledge and opportunity. They knew nothing of evil, or cruelty, or hatred.

But Chaos and Discord felt betrayed by their sisters, Magic and Peace; and, like little children, sought to ruin the _goodness _that had been created.

Thus, Muggles came into the world. Almost as soon as they had been created, they fought and murdered. Muggles were nothing _but _evil and cruelty and hatred; and the Immortals understood none of this. So they refused to see it. All they saw of these new creations were their ingenuity, their resourcefulness, their creativity.

Until those very same qualities were put to evil, and destroyed everything.

A young Immortal girl, by the name of Wren Starling, was out picking flowers for the annual Spring Ritual, when she was attacked and kidnapped. At twelve, she had reached her body's maturity, but not her magic's, and so was unable to fight back.

The warlord of the time – Cainan Adamson – sought to secure his reign and power by siring a powerful, unstoppable Heir. After procuring his Immortal bride, he raped her continuously for two months before she finally conceived. After that she was given to the men, as a reward for bringing their Lord a powerful broodmare. They were allowed to do whatever they wished to the young girl, so long as the Heir remained unharmed.

Eight months and one week later, and the rising Rebellion Parties were gaining ground. After a particularly brutal battle that lost Cainan his best friend and General, the cruel Lord demanded his Heir's immediate birth.

She was brought to a clearing in the Forest and tied down as the army healers cut her open and stole her child. At that moment, of anguish and pain and fear, the now-thirteen year old Immortal came into her Magical Maturity – four years too early. Every person in the clearing was immediately killed – including Cainan and little Wren Starling. Everyone, that is, except for her child.

The son whose name she whispered upon the breeze to her Race's waiting, mourning ears: _Merlin…_

And, for the first time, an Immortal died.

The Dryads of the Forest – who had already nearly faded into their trees to escape the human scourge – were able to take in the half-human, half-Immortal child and raise him.

But even still, the Immortals thought that it was over. It wasn't until _other _humans got similar ideas, and two other children – twins Mordred and Morgana – were born, that the Immortals realized the truth.

There _was _evil, and there _was _cruelty; and every human had the capacity and ability to do those dark deeds.

It wasn't until war was waged upon them by those eager for the secret to their power – and they discovered that they _could _be killed – could be _murdered_ – that they did the only thing that they could.

They ran, taking their Island and remaining people with them, and vanished into the mists of Time.

But they continued to watch, now a little more hardened, less naïve, less innocent. And when their fellow Magical Races fell under the persecution and scourge of Muggles and even of their own descendants – now called Wizards – they rescued them.

Gradually Wizards became more and more plentiful and powerful. There were those who gave into their Muggle ancestry, and became horrible Dark Lords bent on destruction and chaos. Then there were the rare few who took after their Immortal lineage, and possessed that wonder and naivety of magic and life.

But they were tainted – like so many other Races and Beings were tainted – and Chaos and Discord reveled in their victory.

* * *

><p>"Dear Merli… er, Good Go – oh! <em>What the fuck?<em>" Harry hissed, hands clenched tightly in horror and eyes both glowing and misty with tears and fury. "How could we not know this? _How could this have happened?_"

"I dunno Bambi… but _man_… that is seriously messed up." Sirius whispered, arm reflexively wrapping around his godson and holding him protectively to his chest.

The goblins remained silent, mourning for the suffering of a fellow Magical Being, and allowing their human friends to assimilate this new knowledge that was – to them – so much more shocking and unbelievable than it was to Turuk and Ironclaw.

Finally, after he felt that the silence had continued long enough, Turuk turned the page and began the next chapter…

* * *

><p><em><strong>Chapter Two – Vampyra:<strong>_

The second to fall were the Vampyra. While their nature is considered Dark and Evil, that is not so. Vampyra could eat real food and drink, but preferred to drink animal blood for sustenance. The only time they'd drink human blood would be from another Vampyra or Magical Being who was their mate. But they _never _allowed themselves to be tainted by Muggle blood.

They could sense – _smell – _that the Muggle blood was tainted, poisoned, by evil and cruelty. They resolved to stay far away from the Chaos Scourge – as they called the Muggles – and remove themselves from any and all of their conflicts.

Unfortunately, while a sound plan, it was not to be.

A young Vampyra boy, no more than five years of age, named Marcus Cruor, was captured during a hunt. Much like young Wren, he was unable to fight back effectively, and was brought to the mercy of the cruel Muggles who saw him as nothing more than an experiment – and certainly not as a human being.

Although he was not raped or forced to produce a child – as he was too young – his torment was no less terrible than the lost Immortal child's. He became a lab rat to a group of scientists, who wanted nothing more than to sate their curiosity of how the Vampyra body worked.

He wasn't wanted to win wars or advance technology. He was captured merely because the Muggles were _bored_. And somehow, that both cheapens and exacerbates his suffering and sacrifice.

_How does It's body change the blood into nutrients?_

_Where does It's augmented strength and speed come from?_

_Are the teeth hollow? How does It suck blood?_

_Is It's skin impervious? What would it take to break it?_

_How long can It go without blood?_

_Can It bleed?_

_Can It die?_

All these and more were unleashed upon the young child in horrible experiments and tests and tortures. While they burned and cut and beat him; while they took his blood and tears and screams; they refused to feed him either blood or solid food.

Until, finally, after nearly six months and a moment of weakness – where a guard got too close and Marcus was too desperate – the child lunged forward, wrapped his hands around the Muggle's throat, broke his neck, and drank of the tainted blood.

Marcus' strength returned, his wounds healed, and his eyes glowed red. He broke his chains and, in a moment of bloodrage, killed and drained every Muggle in the compound before tearing the place to the ground.

He returned to his people, and a celebration was held for his safe return, but the damage had been done.

Animal blood disgusted him. Solid food made him retch. The Light and Goodness of the sun burned his skin and caused his Dark, Chaos- and Evil-tainted blood to boil and ignite with fire and agony.

The color was bleached from his skin, and with every necessary, desperate Muggle kill; his eyes glowed a brighter and brighter red.

But at the same time, he developed a thrall, an attraction, that called others to him and his Dark blood. He was the fifth son of the Cruor Coven – the ruling Vampyra Coven at the time – and so was listened to.

However, it remained largely ignored until, ignoring his family's protestations, he led his new following into the Muggle village that contained the families of those who had tortured – cursed – him, and razed it to the ground. When sun arose over the bloodless husks of the decimated village, all were forced to hide in a nearby cave, as all now felt the curse of the fiery star.

But, when they tried to return to their home, they found that they could not. The Vampyra feared what their brethren had become – with their evil eyes and dark inclinations – and so, despite the pain that it caused them, they closed the gates upon their brothers, sisters, mothers and fathers; and forbid them from ever returning.

What followed was a terrible, horrible war that nearly decimated the Vampyra. When they were attacked, they couldn't force themselves to defend with deadly force those whom they still loved. On the other hand, the newly dubbed 'Vampires', had no such qualms, and cut down family left and right; allowing the bloodlust to overtake their bodies and burn away their humanity.

When Avalon and the Immortals saw what had happened, they knew that they could no longer stand by and watch another Magical Race fall to the poison of Muggles. So they came, materialized, and Apparated all the remaining Vampyra to safety; leaving the Vampires on the Earth, knowing that there was nothing they could do against their animalistic cruelty and bloodlust.

And thus it was that another Magical Race was lost to time, slowly fading from the memory of Muggles and Vampires alike.

And even still, the Muggle Scourge continued to plague the Earth.

* * *

><p>Harry trembled from the safety of his godfather's arms. So many of those cruel scientist's questions had hit home for him – painfully. Even now, he could hear Vernon's voice in his mind, cruel and spiteful and full of twisted lust and glee.<p>

_Do Freaks bleed? Do Freaks burn? Do Freaks cry?_

_How long can a Freak go without food?_

_Can I beat the Freakishness out of the Freak?_

_What would it take for the Freak to die?_

And, as though Sirius could hear the echoing words as well, he clutched his little, seven(teen) year old godson to his chest; and held and comforted him in silence.

Knowing that, in truth, there was nothing that could or should be said, Turuk continued reading while Ironclaw gazed discreetly at the small, silently-sobbing form of the shrimp that had wormed his way into all of their hearts.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Chapter Three – Valkyrie: <strong>_

There is little known of how these winged, dark, angelic-looking beings came to Avalon; for they refuse to tell. The only thing that we know for certain is that the Dementors are the Muggle-twisted version of these powerful, regal beings.

Somehow, and there is only speculation as to _how_, Muggles turned a Being from one who guides and protects brave souls on their way to Valhalla or Elysium, to one that sucks and devours them; thus destroying their magic and keeping it from re-circulating back into the Life Cycle.

Of all of the atrocities and horrors that Muggles have done against Magical Beings – that was one of the worst.

Valkyries are divided into three categories – or _Flocks_: Raven, Swan, or Horse/Pegasi. They are sorted into one of these three Flocks in a secret ritual upon their coming of age. No non-Valkyrie Being has ever witnessed this ritual, and no Valkyrie dares speak of it, so it is also largely speculation and hearsay.

But each Flock had its own defining characteristics and talents. To be a part of the Raven Flock signifies that you are a Warrior. Ravens are destined to fly into battle and choose their heroes for the final Apocalypse (or Ragnarok). Despite what you may think, they are not just muscle-headed brutes good for nothing but wielding an axe. They are also the most skilled with running and spying behind enemy lines. Every Valkyrie of that flock has the same Animagus – a Raven, although the colors vary. A novice is a light grey color, while an experience veteran would be a deep black. Those are the ones you'd best avoid.

The Horse or Pegasi Flock is best with weapons and forges. They are skilled and powerful blacksmiths, as well as competent and fierce trainers who show no mercy. They are known for their strength of mind and body, as well as their unwavering loyalty and good humor. They also have Animagi – either a Stallion or a Mare. Colors also vary, although there is no difference of skill or strength between a roan or a piebald.

And, lastly, there is the Swan Flock. Those belonging to this particular Flock have unparalleled powers in healing and warding; as well as beautiful and flawless musical voices and fingers. However, that does not mean that they are any less fierce or powerful than their other Flocks. They are fiercely protective of their family – or those they view as family – and tend to hoard their possessions. They are kind and have a great bedside manner, but are quick to temper as well as explosive. But, if they should need to fight, due to their sure and quick fingers, they lean quite heavily on the bow and arrow and almost never miss an intended target. Their Animagi are Swans, and the color of their feathers signifies their familial standing.

Keep all this in mind, for there is no greater mistake you can make than to insult a Valkyrie. And never, _ever_, ask how the Dementors came to be. I once knew someone who was foolish enough to do so; and now, well… I don't know them anymore.

* * *

><p>"Whoa shit…" Harry gasped, shocked and awed. Sirius didn't seem to be in any better condition.<p>

Ironclaw felt a cold shiver a fear run down his spine, and wrote a quick not to gather as many books on Valkyrie as he could, so that they would have as much possible knowledge as they could. As a goblin, he knew that ignorance of the law was no excuse.

Turuk made a noise of surprise, and everyone turned to him in question. "What is it?" Harry asked excitedly, almost bouncing in his seat like the seven year old he'd never been allowed to be. "What's the next chapter?"

"_The Sibylline Oracles…_" He breathed in awe, and Ironclaw sucked in a sharp breath next to him.

"Ummm… what are those?" Sirius asked, cocking his head in very Padfoot-way. Harry, next to him, unconsciously mimicked the motion, equally confused and curious.

"Well, they're… it's long and hard to explain; they're…" Turuk tried to explain, daunted by the huge task before him.

"Oh, just read the bloody chapter! It'll tell them soon enough!" Ironclaw huffed, motioning to the book that lay open in his goblin friend's limp grasp.

"Oh! Oh, right, of course." Turuk cleared his throat in embarrassment, while Harry bit his lip to keep from laughing and Ironclaw and Sirius had no such restraints.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Chapter Four – The Sibylline Oracles:<strong>_

The Sibylline Oracles are, perhaps, the most powerful Race in existence. For what good will Magic or weapons or brilliant strategies be against those who can See them _months – _even _years – _before they happen. Thankfully, they are much like the Immortals, in that they are purely Good Beings and would never entertain the thought of using their powers for evil.

But Magic believes in balance, and as such not all Seers are all-powerful or all-seeing.

To explain that effectively, we must delve into the very nature of Time-Magic. Many believe that Time runs in a circle – this is not so. It is, actually, more of a _Line. _A time-turner merely transports back down the line, before continuing forward by creating another _parallel _Line before eventually diverging back to where they had first departed. But travelling into the future is impossible, as the Line hasn't been created yet.

But Oracles have the unique ability to see merely the _ghost _of the future Lines. Magic knows and sees all, and people's choices will eventually lead to certain outcomes – and it is these Time Ghosts that Oracles can See.

But even then it gets more complicated. As choices and decisions are constantly changing, the future Lines actually branch into _Five _separate Lines. Each represents a different aspect of the Future. The more powerful the Oracle, the higher Line that they can tap into, the more definite their Visions, and thus the more that they can see.

Line abilities are always hereditary, and always passed through the mother. Males can still have Visions, but are unable their Line down to their children.

The Line abilities are as follows:

_First Line: _can See immediate premonitions, allowing for them to See the perpetrator for a crime in which there were no other witnesses, or just to get another point of view for a case. It's rather more like a 'sixth sense' than anything.

_Second Line: _Sees places and events a day or two before they happen. However, they cannot See the individual people in the Visions – only nameless bodies. Also, unlike other Seers, they do not get a definite 'sense' for where their Vision has taken place. Therefore, Second Liners are often the most observant of Seers, as they have to use their own ingenuity, cleverness, and observation skills to pinpoint exactly where what they are Seeing is taking place, and sometimes even who the nameless faces are.

_Third Line: _can See people and places and whole events, but these visions only happen occasionally and sporadically. The Seer has no control over what they See or when they see it.

_Fourth Line: _can See different paths of those they are 'watching'. If they are _not _actively 'watching' someone, they won't see their future. They can also see different paths that will happen if the person they are 'watching' make a different choice, changes their minds about something, or the Seer mistakenly reveals what she's Seen before it's time.

_Fifth Line: _those of the Fifth Line are the most powerful, as well as the most rare. They can see almost anything and everything. Able to tap directly into Magic and see the future, past, and present. However, Fifth Liners are bound by Magic's Laws to only reveal what they are allowed; no more and no less. Fifth Liners cannot directly change the future unless it is Foreseen that they are supposed to.

However, constantly being in tune with Magic caused strain on the Fifth Liner's bodies. As such, each Fifth Liner was only allowed one pregnancy. After several generations of males being born – males who, even as Carriers, could not pass on the Fifth Line ability – severely depleted the Fifth Line.

As the last male Fifth Liners married and had children who were of the other four Lines, only one Fifth Line family remained.

The Mother Oracle, and her son, the Last Child.

As she is the last Fifth Liner, the last who can pass the ability on to her children, she, by Magic's Will, is to remain immortal until such a time that she can give birth to a female to continue the Line. But, as the Mother Oracle has already had her one pregnancy, this is impossible; and thus the cruelty of Muggles strikes again.

For, you see, the Mother Oracle _did _have a daughter. For the first time in centuries, an Oracle gave birth to Twins during their one pregnancy. One boy, and one girl.

The Sibylline Kingdom rejoiced, and all was well. That is, until the young children's Seventh Birthdays.

When a Fifth Line Oracle reaches their Seventh Birthday, they have their 'Naming Day', in which they receive their true Magical names (that they will only tell to their future soul-bond) and tap into Magic for the first time; thus grounding their growing Seer abilities and beginning their training.

However, it was then that everything went wrong. You see, Fifth Line Oracle children cannot be 'Sensed' during the months leading up to their Naming Day. Their powers are so erratic and untamable beneath the surface, eager and waiting to be grounded to Magic. It was then that the Muggles, who could not have known this, got lucky. Because no one – _no one – _had seen it coming.

The Mother Oracle's mate – an Immortal – had taken his daughter out for the day. She had wanted to create a bluebell-necklace for her Naming Day, and her father had been unable to deny her anything, for he loved her dearly.

However, while their guards were down and none could See them, they were attacked.

In the battle the father, who had been unprepared, was struck down and killed first. Then the daughter – whom is now called the Lost Child – was taken; captured for the sick Muggles' pleasures. They didn't know that she was an Oracle, and it was another stroke of horrible luck that they took her just days before her Naming, so that, no matter what, she could not be found by Oracle means.

For years she was tortured and raped in that dark room with sparse light. As she had never had her Naming, and as such never tapped into Magic and never grounded her abilities, she became mad with the uncontrolled and untamed Visions that only amplified her torment. She was forced to See her attacks before they happened, live them as they did happen, then view it again after as her Oracle abilities fluctuated and waged war within her. Then the cycle would start again, and she had no control.

And then, the worst torment of all. The Lost Child came into her body's maturity early – at the age of eleven. Shortly after, she became pregnant – her one pregnancy – and from a Muggle.

Eight months later she gave birth to a daughter that she, during a period of rare lucidity, named Sibyls, in remembrance of her home. Unfortunately, due to the Muggle taint in her blood and the madness of her mother's trapped magic, the child only possessed the ability of a Line Three. She would becomd completely mad, only Prophesying in frantic mutterings and drunken rages. The Muggles took her away and, when they learned that she could see the future, elevated her status to earn themselves money. She became known to history as the first Sibyls Oracle, though this was not the truth.

Eventually her masters made her pregnant to carry on the gift and thus ensure their wealth. But this child, doubly tainted, only possessed Line Two abilities. And so on, and so forth, it continued, each generation possessing weaker and weaker Line One, Two, and Three abilities; all of them naming their first-born daughters either Sibyls or Sibyll. Eventually they took on the name 'Trelawney', and the truth was, once again, lost to the sands of Time.

But the Lost Child knew none of this, for soon after she gave birth, Magic had mercy on her and absorbed her body into the Lines. She disappeared in a shower of gold, free from torment and pain.

As for her brother – the Last Child – he had refused to have his Naming Day. He had Seen, during a rare Underage Vision, that him and his sister would attend their Naming Day together. So he refused to move on without her. And, when it seemed that Magic approved this, as he never aged past the day his sister was taken, people stopped protesting.

Even to this day, the Last Child remains certain that his sister will return, and that he would wait for her – staying seven years old forever, if need be.

After the tragedy of loosing her mate, only to be informed by Magic of her daughter's passing years later, the Mother Oracle gathered her people and brought them to safety – to Avalon.

As thanks for the Island accepting them without protest, the Mother Oracle developed a sound and just governing body to preside over all of the rights of the Magical Races taking refuge there. Each Race is allowed two representatives on the High Council, none higher or more powerful than the others, with the Mother Oracle presiding as Final Judge.

But the largest, and perhaps the most important, contribution that the Mother Oracle made to Avalon is the Prophesy of the Emerald. None can view it, but all can see it, as it resides in an elaborate pedestal in the High Temple. Nothing is known about the contents, except that whomever the Prophesy is intended for will purge the Earth of the Scourge and bring Light and Peace to the World – and restore Avalon to its rightful place.

Often Myst University sanctions Field Trips to the High Temple, in hopes that _this _child, _this _student, will be the one that everyone's been waiting for, the one to cure the Earth and restore Magic.

Who knows… perhaps _you_ are the One.

* * *

><p>"NO I'M NOT!" Harry yelped, jumping up and pointing at the book furiously, as though to convince it otherwise. "ONE DAMN PROPHESY IS BLOOD WELL ENOUGH!"<p>

"Easy pup!" Sirius grabbed his godson's shirt and yanked him back onto the couch. "They aren't saying that it's you! It's just a cliffhanger, and comment that is in every book for new students. It doesn't mean that it's specifically saying that you're the destined recipient for that Prophesy. Alright?"

"Oh… yeah…" Harry blushed and looked down, only to turn even redder as his comrades laughed and snickered at his sheepish, embarrassed expression. He quickly tried to change the subject, "Well, that certainly explains a lot about Trelawney, doesn't it?"

Sirius nodded, snickering. "Definitely. She was a right nutter when I went to Hogwarts. She was in sixth year when I first joined, and even then she was completely off her rocker. I couldn't believe it when James told me that Dumbledore had hired her for the Divination position. But, being one of the last of the Trelawney Line, I'm guessing that he didn't have much choice. Although, in my opinion, that one Prophesy she gave about you was the only valid one she'd ever Seen."

"That, and the one in my third year about Wormtail." Harry corrected.

"Oh yeah, I'd forgotten about that. Stupid rat…" Sirius grumbled, glowering darkly.

Obviously seeing that Sirius was close to sinking into a self-deprecating brooding, Turuk turned the page and began the next chapter. As soon as they finished this one, they'd be only two chapters away from the epilogue of the book.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Chapter Five – Drackens:<strong>_

Drackens are a dragon-humanoid-looking hybrid who are able to transform into Dragons at will – much like an Animagus transformation. In human form they still have the wings, claws, and scales, although they're significantly smaller. All Drackens, whether dominant or submissive, are extremely tall.

The dominants range roughly around six feet. The submissives generally are six and a half, although some have been known to be as tall as eight feet. Like in many species, the submissives are larger and fiercer, so as to protect the nest and their chicks from danger while the dominant is out hunting.

But submissives are in no way looked down upon in Dracken society. Both submissives and dominants can have jobs, vote, and hold office. They are just as fierce and deadly as their dominants… sometimes even more so. Submissives and Dominants can be both male and female; and as such the Dracken Race is perhaps the most un-sexist Race created by Magic.

Drackens are separated into Thirteen Ancient Clutches, and twelve of those are separated into four different Courts.

In the North Court are the Antipodean Opaleye, the Chinese Fireball, and the Welsh Green.

In the East Court are the Hebridean Black, the Hungarian Horntail, and the Norwegian Ridgeback.

The South Court consists of the Peruvian Vipertooth, Romanian Longhorn, and the Swedish Short-Snout.

And, finally, in the Clutches of the West Court are the Ukrainian Ironbelly, Catalonian Fireball, and the Portuguese Long-Snout.

The Thirteenth, and most powerful, Clutch is the Royal Pendragons.

Only the Royal Pendragons are immortal, although they compensate for that gift in only being allowed to reproduce once every three centuries.

The first and most powerful Royal Pendragons go by the names of King Arthur and Queen Guinevere. And it is, once again, the fault of Muggles that they were forced to flee to Avalon. Although the betrayal was a lot more closer to home than any of the others.

Arthur Pendragon was close friends with the Master Guardian of the Immortals. So, when the Immortals fled and took Avalon with them, the Master Guardian begged Arthur to keep an eye on Merlin, the half-Immortal child; and Arthur agreed. So when Merlin came of age and maturity, Arthur took him into his Court as a sort of Royal Advisor. He sought to teach Merlin kindness, wisdom, honor and loyalty – all the things that the Muggle world would not have.

But Arthur was too late.

There came rumors, stories, of horrible atrocities being done against the Dracken race. Of whole Clutches being attacked and subdued; Drackens being forced into their dragon forms and bound there; losing their human minds.

It wasn't until Camelot came under attack that Arthur learned the truth. Only a select few knew that Arthur was a Dracken, and even fewer knew that his fabled Round Table was made up of twenty-four other Drackens, two from each Clutch (though not married to eachother).

And the only one who was _not _Dracken, and knew… was Merlin.

It was Merlin, his soul twisted by the Muggle cruelty in his blood, who informed and spurred on the mindless, blood-thirsty masses. Together, they attacked and laid siege to Camelot, their intent to kill the leaders of the Drackens, and wipe out the entire race.

From their vantage point in the Tower Room, around the Round Table, they could only watch along with their spouses as the gates were broken down and their betrayers – their once loyal subjects – stormed the palace. They knew that all was lost.

But, just as the raving hoard almost reached the barred doors, the Mother Oracle and Master Guardian came for them. They took the last fifty Dracken – four of each Clutch and the Royal Pendragons – and transported them to Avalon just as the massive doors were broken down.

But none on Earth – whether Muggle or Magical – knew of what had happened that fateful night. But Muggles, with no other answer and their penchant for romanticized tales, imagined and whispered some heroic account of bravery and strength and poetic death – that slowly became fact while the truth vanished to the sands of Time and the fickle loyalties of Muggles. And thus rumor and superstition became history, and Merlin remained vaulted friends with Arthur throughout times past.

And to this day, even while the original Knights of the Round Table passed away and their decedents took their place, King Arthur and Queen Guinevere Pendragon rule the Dracken Race with a firm and just hand and a fair mind.

But they shall never forget the betrayal of their First Wizard, nor the loss and decimation of their once-great nation. For the Dracken Race shall never recover from that first, greatest genocide.

* * *

><p>"<em>Fuck!<em> I always knew that Muggles were twisted but… _bloody fuck __**Merlin?**_That's so… so UGH!" Unable to come up with words to properly vocalize his level of disgust and horror, Hadrian threw up his hands and flung himself against the back of the couch. "Continue reading Turuk, if you please. I'd prefer to get this all over and done with as fast as possible – like ripping off a plaster."

Turuk nodded and, seeing that everyone was in agreement and had no other comment, turned the page and started the next chapter.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Chapter Six – Lycans:<strong>_

Lycans are the original wolf-shifters, the ancestors of the oft-feared Werewolves.

They are separated into three Packs – the Moon, Starr, and Skye Packs. The Moon Pack can be discerned by their glowing emerald eyes, while the Starr Pack is known for their blue and the Skye Pack for their red. Each Pack has an Alpha, though all three Alphas fall under the jurisdiction of the High Alpha – or Spirit Wolf.

The Spirit Wolf is named such as he is able to go into a deep meditative trance and form of himself an Astral Projection. This 'Spirit' then goes to all of the individual Packs and checks up on them, giving advice or just watching out for them.

Although they have extended life spans, no Lycan, not even the Spirit Wolf, are immortal. Rather, each Spirit Wolf is chosen seemingly at random, although there is an order. If the current Spirit Wolf came from the Moon Pack, then the next will come from the Starr Pack. If from the Starr Pack, then the Skye Pack will be next. And so on and so forth, in a never-ending circle.

The next Spirit Wolf is determined purely by Magic. When the next Spirit Wolf reaches eleven years of age, he will wake up in the morning with the mark of the Mother Moon upon their forehead. Magic shows no preference for males or females, as there has been equal chosen as Spirit Wolves.

As soon as the cub has been identified as the new Spirit Wolf, he or she is then taken under the paw of the current Spirit Wolf, and trained in the art of Astral Projection and other necessary lessons for being a Spirit Cub. And, when the current Spirit Wolf passes on, all of the knowledge of the previous Spirit Wolves is passed on to the new one; and the cycle begins anew.

Along with this knowledge comes the true story of how the Lycans came to Avalon. And, after much deliberation and counseling with her past selves, the current Spirit Wolf agreed to tell me their history.

As you might not know, Lycans are not governed by the Moon. They are able to shift between their human and wolf forms at will. While in their human forms they still possess some wolf characteristics (mainly teeth, claws, and unnatural eyes and strength); just as they retain their human minds and intelligence in their wolf forms.

But all that changed with the interference of the Muggle Scourge.

The twin of the current Spirit Cub was captured while out finding a gift for his brother's Moonday (as Lycans celebrate their first Full Moon, rather than their date of birth).

The cruel, crude Muggle scientists who captured him were trying to create a super-human soldier for their current warlord. They created horrible chemical concoctions and poisonous, crude potions and pumped them into the bound Lycan. After thousands of experiments and years of torture, his basic physical composition began to change.

They forced him to remain in a half-state – half wolf and half man – as they tested what effect their 'inventions' would have on the 'beast'.

Until, finally, three years after his capture and on a Full Moon, the Lycan saw his chance, and took it. He had almost escaped – was at the edge of the compound – when it happened. A lucky Muggle got close enough, and stabbed him with a silver dagger that he had on him.

Ironically enough, it was the catalyst that the scientists had been looking for all along. But none could have predicted the outcome. The silver reacted with the chemicals and potions that once lay dormant in his blood, and caused his wolf-side to go completely mad and blood-crazed. The Lycan became feral and trapped in his half-state, and in his rabid condition, killed all of the scientists and decimated all of the research. He passed out some distance away, and woke up the next morning, completely human.

He had thought that he was free, that all would now go back to normal. He was wrong.

He found that his wolf side was now completely mad, and refused to transform until it had healed. Unfortunately, it was never given the chance to. His body – or, rather, the chemicals in his body – remembered the pull of the Moon upon the silver and potions in his blood. Every Full Moon, his body would be forced back into it's crazed, terrified, rabid half-state; never giving the wolf a chance to heal and only exacerbating the condition. And any time he came into contact with the catalyst – silver – the wolf would writhe and rave again, remembering and echoing the original pain, until it killed itself from the inside out.

He became known as the first Werewolf, identified by the now amber-yellow color of his eyes – another result of the foreign chemicals in his blood.

Knowing that he could not be trusted among his pack and around the cubs, the Lycan wandered as a lone Alpha, mourning the loss of his family and Pack more than ever.

Unable to stand it anymore, the now-Werewolf found a kind, good Witch (who took after her forgotten Immortal ancestry) and he married her, siring a cub.

However, that's when things took a turn for the worst. When the young boy bit his mother for the first time – as young teething children are wont to do – he secreted a venom, and passed on to her the same curse. The ex-Lycan realized that the Werewolf chemicals and Curse were passed on hereditarily, though only the males secreted the venom outside of their wolf form. And, as the same chemicals still existed and thus the pull of the Full Moon, every cub of that first Lycan also possessed a mad and crazed half-wolf.

And as his cubs grew and found their own mates, the not-Lycan realized that his children did not follow the regular wolf mating cycles, and began to breed at an alarming and exponential rate – turning their mates before having many, many cubs, who grew up to turn their own mates and have their own cubs. And every Full Moon, they would go mad, and kill whole populations of humans – with no distinction between Muggle and Magical.

Finally, after he woke up after a Full Moon to discover he'd killed a whole town of Muggles and Lycans, the first-Werewolf was forced to act. Going to his long lost twin, who was now the Spirit Wolf, he begged him to take the Packs and flee to Avalon.

The Spirit Wolf refused, saying that he would never abandon his brother, and that he would find a cure. And he stuck by his promise, until the Muggles forced him to break it.

The Muggle Scourge organized lynch mobs, hunting down and killing any and all wolf-shifters; uncaring if they were amber-eyed or cerulean, Werewolf or Lycan.

It wasn't until a small band of humans attacked the Spirit Wolf while he was Astrally Projecting that everything came to a head. The brother, who had been watching over his twin's prone, helpless form, defended it at the cost of his life.

By the time the Spirit Wolf came back to his body, the humans were nothing but bloody corpses around him, and his brother – his ex-Lycan brother – was gasping on his last breath, two arrows and a spear through his chest.

With his last breath he begged his brother to take their people and flee to Avalon, flee the madness and chaos that had been created from his body. And the Spirit Wolf could do nothing but obey.

With the blood of his brother still staining his clothes, the Spirit Wolf gathered up the last of the three Packs and, on the next Full Moon, pleaded to the Mother Moon, using Lunar and Equinox Magic to summon the attentions of Avalon. And on that very night, when the Moon was at it's apex, the Lycans vanished from the face of Terra, never to be seen again.

* * *

><p>"Moony!" Harry yelped. He then lightly flushed at the incredulous and confused looks of those around him. "I-I mean… that's really terrible and twisted… but Moony would love this! I can't believe that I forgot about him! Maybe… maybe he could come too? Why are you shaking your head?"<p>

For Sirius was shaking his head the negative. "No cub. Right now, Remus is so far up Dumbledore's ass that they share the same brain. It's of no fault of Moony's, it just, with the death of his pack and Alpha – James was the Alpha, in case you didn't know – Moony had no direction. And, being the manipulative bastard that we know him to be, Dumbledore stepped in and filled that role. Now Moony's compelled to obey and follow Dumbledore, if not for the Alpha-bond, than just through straight gratitude. In the past-future, it wasn't until I came back and became his Alpha that fateful night by the Whomping Willow that I wrested control of him from Dumbledore and gave him his mind back.

"That's why he never visited you – his cub – once while you were growing up. Dumbledore told him not to, and Remus was compelled to obey. He never sent you letters or gifts, because Dumbledore caterered to both his logical side by saying that you wouldn't understand it as you didn't know of the Magical World, and his wolf side by wording it as a command.

"Besides, right now he's in a DADA Apprenticeship in the States under another Werewolf, as they don't have the same demeaning and restraining laws there as we do here. He'll finish his Apprenticeship shortly before your would-be Third Year, which qualified him to teach under Dumbledore's thumb; thus giving you another attachment and reason to remain close to the old coot."

Harry visibly deflated. Because, really, what could he say to that? Dumbledore had covered all his bases, the damned old goat, and there was nothing that Harry could do about it. Not so soon, not while it could uncover and endanger all that they were working towards.

He nodded despondently, and Sirius put his arm around him in comfort, motioning for Turuk to continue reading. "Let's just get this Merli – er, thrice-damned book over and done with."

Ironclaw and Turuk seemed to be in agreement, for Ironclaw remained silent as the other goblin turned the page and began the second-to-last chapter.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Chapter Seven – High Elves:<strong>_

Immortal. Light. Dark. Grey.

All these thing pertain and describe – at least partially – the High Elves.

Once they were a prosperous race. Their Immortality had not effect on their bodies or birthing rate, and as such the Elven cities were teeming with children, laughter, and life.

The Dark Elves – eyes of obsidian, cobalt, and indigo and hair of blackest ebony – would practice their mystical and alluring magic in Night and Shadow, paying tribute to the secret Magic of the Unseen.

Light Elves would – with locks of spun gold and orbs of periwinkle, jade, and ivory – would dance away the Summer Solstice barefoot in the grass, hands raised towards the life-giving rays of the sun and worshipping the Magic of Life and Music.

And both would train and teach the rare, coveted Grey Elves in both their arts – for they possessed the exceptional ability to harness both types of Magic; to dabble and master both Light and Dark.

The Elves, as they live for millennium and are immortal, were both wise and far-seeing. As such, the High Lord saw that the Age of Elves on Terra was at an end, and so they left Earth for Avalon.

Unfortunately, though far-seeing, they should have been looking closer to home. For, when they left, in the chaos of moving a whole people to another Land, a small Elven child was left behind.

And that small child was the Heir to the Elven Throne. Although the youngest of thirteen, he was the only Grey Elf the High Lord had sired, and thus was to inherit the Throne.

It was not to be.

For that forgotten child, shortly after his people had left him behind, was found by cruel Wizards, and his powers bound to them. The Grey Elf was forced into servitude, his own magic attacking him if he dared to disobey his masters. And, when it was discovered that the male Elves could bear children, he was used as a broodmare for more and more Elven servants.

And the Forgotten Elf's children, and his children's children, being forced to reproduce with either Wizards or their siblings, constantly at war with their own magic, began to change.

They became shriveled husks of what they once were. Their original make-up and magic was twisted and warped beyond recognition, until they became as low as they could be.

They became… _House Elves_.

When this atrocity was discovered, Magic raged and was furious at the Elves for abandoning one of their own. Magic punished all Elves with near-barrenness, to the point where the Race was lucky to get a child once every two hundred years.

But the Royal Family was cursed most of all. They would never sire another child again – not the High Lord and Lady nor their twelve other children – until the Forgotten Child returned, a Grey Elf once more.

So the High Lord and Lady are forced to remain Rulers over a Race that they had condemned, through their own thoughtlessness and even arrogance, for eternity.

Or, at least, until the impossible happened, and their Forgotten Child returned.

For, after all, aren't all things possible with Magic?

* * *

><p>Even while, with no prompting, Turuk turned the page and began the epilogue; Harry whispered hoarsely, <em>"Dobby…"<em>

Thinking of his House Elf friend, his courage and bravery and eccentricity, a lone tear rolled down his face at the abuse and torment of a once great Race.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Conclusion:<strong>_

So you now understand. The atrocities of Muggles, the abuse of Magic's Gift and Life, and the pain and torment of the Magical Brethren.

There are many other Races that Avalon was not able to save, or decided to remain behind.

The Veela, in their arrogance, refused Avalon's hand and as such bred with Muggles, eventually becoming what they are now – mindless half-bird beings driven by vanity and pride. Now the Veela know nothing of Avalon, and have lost their Ancient Magical Rights.

The Centaurs and the Goblins chose to remain. The Centaurs because they Saw that they still had a purpose to fulfill on Terra; though occasionally they'll send a foal to Avalon for learning.

The Goblins, in their oft-overlooked loyalty and honor, offered to stay behind and watch out for the remaining Magical Races and their scattered, twisted offspring. They pledged to watch and wait, rescuing whom they could and spiriting them to Avalon and safety, even risking their own extermination in the meanwhile. Magic blessed their sacrifice by guarding them, and giving them a position of power over the Wizarding Banking System; so that they may hunt for Magic's lost heirs.

But, for all it's legends and vaulted tales, Avalon is, in reality, nothing more than a Refuge. They thrive and live and heal, but they are hiding, for they are afraid.

They all, whether they may deny it or not, are waiting for the Emerald Heir, the Prophesy Child, to lead them from their Sanctuary and back into the Once-Glory of their Races. They possess the power, weapons, and Magic…

They just need a leader.

And they will wait, for a million years if need be, for their Leader to arrive.

We just pray that it doesn't take that long.

* * *

><p>As soon as the last word passed Turuk's lips, there was a flash of purple light and everyone yelped or cursed as the backs of their hands felt as though they were pinched roughly. When the light faded, there was another letter on the coffee table and an odd symbol on the backs of their right hands.<p>

It was a light gold in color, and looked like the face of a clock with roman numerals. Harry reached out, while everyone else was still examining their marks, and picked up the letter.

Opening the envelope, he read aloud the rather short missive:

_What you have just felt is the Marking of the Compendium. It marks you as having followed the guidelines, and will now allow you to enter Avalon unmolested._

_While your ticket might get you to the Gates of Avalon, it is the Myst University symbol on the back of your hand that will allow you through them. Those who haven't read the Compendium will be forced to sit outside the Gates and read it before entering, and thereby gain a mark on their school records before even entering the school._

_Thank you for your compliance, and we are eager for your impending arrival at our Prestigious School._

"Cool…" Harry breathed, looking at his Marking in a new light. It was actually sorta cool, in a Victorian, steampunk-y kinda way. Beyond the initial application it didn't hurt, and it reminded Harry of the stamp that children receive at theme and amusement parks, signifying that they could return if they wandered outside the gates.

Harry, seeing that they were also examining their Marks, brought everyone back to themselves by asking, "Now what?"

As one, Turuk, Ironclaw, and Sirius looked up and exchanged devious, anticipatory grins.

Hadrian gulped, and briefly prayed that Avalon was ready for them.

* * *

><p>One week later, the four friends were holding their tickets, waiting for the clock to count down to the inevitable time of departure.<p>

It was discovered that their Markings acted like real clocks, adopting the current time in whatever zone they were in (as Sirius tested by Flooing from Gringotts branch to Gringotts branch, driving the goblins insane and eventually making Sirius sick up – much to Harry's amusement). It was actually sorta weird and eerie to see the minute hands ticking across your skin without feeling anything.

Each had a large, embossed trunk. Harry's was emerald and silver (a gift from a grinning Sirius to his 'Slytherin-in-Gryffindor's-clothing godson'); Sirius' was grey and purple; and Turuk and Ironclaw's were an identical red-and-black. All were feather-light and expanded on the inside, and held all their worldly possessions – all that they would need for the many years that they would remain in Avalon.

Finally, five minutes before 1:37pm, their tickets began to glow. Before they even had time to blink, there was a flash, and before them floated four identical golden orb-like Pods.

They opened with a hiss of released air, and the moment was so scifi-ish that Harry nearly laughed aloud. Harry stepped forward and peeked into the Pod, but could see nothing but black.

Suddenly, without warning, Sirius chucked Harry's trunk into the Pod and picked the now-squealing Harry up; holding him over the blackness.

"Sirius! Don't you da-AGH!"

Without further ado, the raucously laughing dogfather dropped Harry into the Pod; where he disappeared, screaming death threats, into the black.

Then the snickering Grim and Goblins climbed into their own Pods (Turuk and Ironclaw threatening the Black Lord with castration if he did the same to them), and there was a swish of sliding metal as all four Pods sealed themselves.

Finally, 1:37pm grew closer, and the Pods began glowing and vibrating with a blinding gold. They began swirling around in a circle – _faster and faster and faster_ – until the very air between them began to Ripple and Warp. Until, at exactly 1:37:29, the fabric of reality gave a might heave, Rippled, and _tore_. Fast as lightning, the Pods, one after another, zipped through the opening. Then, with a resounding _bang _of displaced air and reality, it snapped shut.

And all was silent.

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN: AND THEY'RE OFF! I hope that you enjoy my explanations. This was a really fun and extensive chapter… THIRTY-THREE PAGES PEOPLE! Almost ELEVEN-THOUSAND WORDS! Gosh that was painful… and super, SUPER fun! A lot of this I came up with on the spot, and a lot of it I'd planned a long time ago. This was a lot of fun and I can't wait to discover where we're going next! I hadn't originally planned to have Turuk and Ironclaw join them, they just sorta stowaway-ed without my knowledge (I swear!).**_

_**By the way, I recently wrote another short one-shot. It's not a song-fic, but it's still really good (at least, I think so – as well as my one reviewer: Sesshomaru-XD-13 you rock!). It has to do with Binns' absentmindedness during the Chamber of Secrets, when Hermione questioned him about the legend, and how he really came to be a ghost. It's a rather sick and creepy twist if I say so myself… I really have no idea where it came from…**_

_**Anywho, read 'Grant, O'Flaherty, Pennyfeather'… I promise (think) that you won't be disappointed!**_


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